


Undertow

by Zaxal



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Selkies, Transformation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are forces in the universe pulling him this way and that, and it's all Carlton Lassiter can do to keep his head above water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Shassie Week 2014; Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, and the Free Space

He often enjoyed his lunches on a bench on the beach. He watched the water roll in, wave after wave curling and crashing against the shore. It was always tempting to take off his socks and shoes, roll up his pants, and wade in. Regardless of being head detective, regardless of the persona he had carefully maintained.

But he hadn't touched salt water in years. He admired it from a measured distance, felt the ocean breeze warm his face, the salt clearing his sinuses. He relaxed as much as he ever did here, enjoying the only daydream he ever indulged.

He had no way of knowing that right at that moment, someone was watching as he stared dreamily off into the horizon. She snapped a picture of him with her cellphone and sent it to her accomplices with a text attached: _He doesn't suspect a thing._

\-----

He tapped his knuckles across the grain of his desk, his phone tucked against his shoulder, the soothing tune meant to placate him occasionally broken up by a robotic voice thanking him for his patience and to please stay on the line.

If Carlton weren't checking up on the victim of a brutal attack, he wouldn't have bothered. The hospital was supposed to contact them when she woke up and was lucid enough to answer questions, but Carlton had insisted on calling in to check once he got back from lunch.

There were lesions on her skin that had turned Carlton's stomach to see.

All of a sudden, he reeled, body weak and vision going black.

Awoke on the floor by his desk, Juliet leaning over, and he could see his name shaping on her lips, but all he could hear was the rush of his heart. Every hurried beat made him feel the knife sliding into his back, sliding just next to his spine.

It took him long moments in his panic to realize what had happened, and he felt himself go weak again.

"Carlton," Juliet said with a concerned frown. "Do you need to go home? You look sick."

Nodded quickly, scrambling to his feet, seeing the faces turned to stare at him, hearing distantly the hold music still going. His stubbornness told him to sit down and get back to work, not to show weakness.

Shown or not, someone seemed to have found his greatest weakness of all.

"I'll go home. Thank you, O'Hara."

She looked even more worried. He couldn't afford to keep up appearances, to soothe that concern away. Not now.

\-----

His heart didn't slow down until he made it to his apartment and tested the twist of the doorknob, panic crashing in a fresh wave when it gave way without resistance. Every morning, he locked the front door. He tested the knob to make sure it was locked.

When he swung the door open, he breathed out a soft, "Fuck."

His apartment was destroyed. Someone had torn through it, sparing no expense when destroying the meticulous order of his home. Carlton ignored the mess, navigating quickly to his bedroom only to find his secret box sitting on his bed, its original contents missing. Of his eight hidden guns, six were sitting in the box, holding up an unsealed envelope.

The message inside contained a time and a place, and one small personal message: _Come alone, unarmed._

\-----

He arrived on the dot without backup, without a plan. If they'd stolen anything else, he wouldn't have risked it, wouldn't have stupidly put himself at someone else's mercy. Wouldn't have let himself be patted down by some grinning bastard with a tattoo of a shark's jaw on his arm. Wouldn't have been led tamely deeper into the old warehouse that still smelled heavily of fish, dilapidated and forgotten on a rarely-traveled pier.

But his sealskin was part of his soul, as entwined with him as his own human body, as the magic binding the two together.

Which made it worse to see it draped over someone else's shoulders, the prize of a primitive warlord. Carlton needed to look at him, needed to memorize and pick out identifying features, but his eyes couldn't travel farther than the dark skin, marbled with gray and white, and in someone else's possession.

"Eyes up, seal boy."

He reluctantly dragged his eyes away, fixing them on the man with the rugged features and the tattoo of a shark's jaw around the curve of his throat, constantly bitten by one of nature's fiercest predators.

"Good," he said, reaching up to stroke his fingers delicately over a flipper. Carlton sneered. "Bet you're wondering why we're all here, aren't you?"

Carlton had put it together already, but he refused to answer, to play into this stupid game that was intent on making him lose.

"We've been watching you," he continued. "Watching you go about your days like you're as human as everyone else. Like you have a right to walk among them, much less try to occupy any position of power." He eyed Carlton meaningfully. "Chief of Police; really?" Carlton lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, refused to rise to the bait. "Can you imagine, a seal in a policeman's uniform?"

The other people in the room – he'd counted three others excluding the leader and himself – laughed while Carlton seethed. A knife flashed, brought up in the leader's hand, and he laid the flat of the blade against the flipper he'd been fondling, making gentle circles and skimming the hair. "You think you belong with them?" he mused. "Wonder what they'd do, given the chance to see this side of you?" Twisted the knife up and sliced the flipper, pain lancing up Carlton's own hand.

In an instant, he pulled the sealskin off, tossing it to the woman next to him, whose hand which bore the same familiar symbol flicked a lighter, the fire searing along his jaw. Carlton winced, swallowed until she lifted it up, exposing the underside and swiped the flame down the front of him.

"Stop," he growled weakly.

The leader's dark eyes sparked as he sauntered closer. Said in a low voice, "One skin or another's gonna feel it. We either destroy that here in front of you right now, or you prove the animal you are, that you deserve everything we intend to do."

Carlton wasn't afraid of pain, wasn't afraid of much of anything. But losing his sealskin, permanently losing his link to freedom, to everything being a selkie was – that caused more gut-wrenching fear than any discomfort or phobia he'd ever owned up to.

"Me," he said with a snarl.

The knife glittered again and drove into his side. Carlton would have doubled over if not for the leader's hand, sturdy on his shoulder, meeting his eyes with no mercy in his own, "I was so hoping you'd say that."

\-----

Cuts and burns healed, albeit slower in his human body than on his sealskin, and no amount of supernatural or magical speed to the healing process made the pain less. His hands and wrists were bound with rope which cut his skin raw, his arms aching from where they hung on a hook on a rusty frame that used to hold large fish for everyone to examine. Now, he was the one on display.

They were probably going to kill him. But he'd die with magic in his blood, and that seemed more important than he'd ever have admitted to.

Carlton wasn't one for running away, that wasn't what the skin was for. It was his link to his heritage, to the water, to _home_ , though he'd hesitate to put that name to it. He liked being human well enough; he liked his life.

But the first time he'd gotten in a big fight with Victoria, he sneaked off under the pale light of a full moon and plunged into the water, into freedom. Even alone, swimming for hours, that had been enough to save him, to give him bearings and grounding when he'd been adrift with nothing else to cling to.

He knew there were hunters, trophymen who went looking for even the most innocently harmless magical creature to kill and keep as proof of their own prowess. How some couldn't bear the idea of anything that might be part animal invading the beds of their ignorant men and women.

Carlton was pulled out of his thoughts as a crash sounded from outside, but he couldn't bear to lift his head, to raise his hopes for what was probably a stray nosing around for food. "We told you to come alone," the leader reminded him, skimming his knife down the exposed expanse of his torso and prodding the tip into a wound that had already begun to heal.

"I did," he finally managed to gasp out, trying not to move too much and make himself swing.

The leader didn't look away from where his knife dug into his skin, reopened the wound, "Make sure he's not lying."

One of them left to follow his orders, and when something slammed against the side of the building, the other lackey quickly trotted outside. Carlton's head shot up, eyes wide, fearful when he heard Shawn Spencer's voice saying, quite loudly, "Woah, hey, I just came to ask about joining the Sweet Shark Tattoos Club. I'd show you mine, but, well, it's still a little raw and not in a place that's entirely appropriate if you know what I'm-"

"-And who is that?" The leader asked with a brutal twist of the knife.

Carlton gritted his teeth to keep from making noise, gasping for breath when it finally pulled away and the pain slowly joined the constant throbbing of his body. "Oh," Shawn said, voice much clearer, and when Carlton looked up, he was in the room, escorted by the other two men. "Wow, I'd hate to be that guy."

"Oh, you will, since you'll be taking his place unless one of you explains why you're here."

The one woman of the group piped up, Carlton's sealskin draped over her shoulders like an obscene shawl, "He's the psychic I was telling you about. Fake, I believe."

"Hey," Shawn protested, "I am very much a real-"

"Shut up," the leader sneered unkindly. "It won't matter much longer whether you're real or fake."

"Why?" Shawn asked, eyes sliding to meet Carlton's for only a moment, the panic and fear squashed by the time he turned his attention back to their captor. "By the time I could get help here, he's already going to be dead. And it's not like I'm really all that inclined to help him anyway."

Carlton knew it was to save them both, but it still stung, hurt almost as deeply as any number of his healing wounds.

Shawn smiled as he added, "You're doing me a real favor here, actually."

"He lying," the woman said smoothly, reaching out to drag her fake nails down Carlton's side, drawing Shawn's eyes back to the gruesome display he knew he must be. "He's his friend. He thinks he's too clever to be caught." She smiled, cruel but delighted. "I think a homecoming is in order, don't you?"

The leader took a moment to comprehend, but then it spread across his face, equally excited as he turned back to Shawn, asked in a purr, "You want to see where things like him belong?" Backed towards where Carlton hung. "Want to see if something like this," brought the knife up, drawing the tip along his stomach, watching the skin part and blood well, "would bother saving you?"

"He would," Shawn said in an instant, eyes locked onto him, trusting. "I know he would."

"Let's put that to a test, shall we?" Flipped the knife idly in his hand. "Take him home." Grinned at Carlton, so many teeth. "Drown him."

"What?" Shawn asked, voice suddenly small.

"Don't," Carlton said, voice raw and pained though he forced the words out. "I'm what you're after. I'm the animal, remember; he's just. He's human. He's not-"

"He's a liability as long as he's alive. But don't worry. If you're half the hero you pretend to be, you can save him, right?"

Carlton's nose flared, his eyes narrowed as his anger boiled. Looked up at the sudden commotion. Shawn fought back, struggled, managed to elbow one of them in the nose before they grabbed his hands and tied them in front of him. The one bleeding punched him across his face before yanking his head back, forcing something into his mouth before tying an oily-looking rag around his face.

Shawn's eyes rose to him, eyes moving over Carlton as he shook out of fear.

"Please," he said, broken, his fingers fumbling as he tried to wriggle out of the knots. "Don't." Broke his heart, but he said it, "Take the skin and kill me and, or whatever else, just don't-"

"Not your call to make," the leader said helpfully. Turned to leave as they started to escort him away, "Gonna go make sure he has a nice swim. Don't go anywhere."

Shawn yelled and struggled, the rope creaking as he tried to fight back. Stopped when the knife coated in Carlton's blood pressed to his throat, and a murmured warning too soft for Carlton to hear was issued. The four of them left, and all that was left was him, the woman, and the pain that encompassed his entire body.

\-----

Carlton tried to count the minutes, but time was so difficult to hold onto when he felt like sliding out of consciousness every couple of moments. It was too late. Shawn was dead, and he wasn't.

The woman didn't seem as intent on torturing him without an audience, sitting on a crate when the front door busted open. "Get down on the ground, and put your hands behind your head!" Juliet's gun was in her hands, steady, eyes trained on the other woman. "Carlton?"

"She's the only one here." Tried to breathe and couldn't, couldn't believe she was here, that she was actually going to save him. "Hurry. Please."

"Where's Shawn? Gus said he came after you."

"That's why," Carlton said, measuring the words with the breath he could barely catch, "I need you to hurry, O'Hara."

"It's way too late for that, babe. He's long gone," the woman said with a harsh laugh.

"Fuck you," Carlton said, too weakly for his own liking. Swung his body with what remained of his human strength and kicked her in the side of her head. Juliet moved in with her handcuffs, cuffing the woman's behind her and turning her attention to Carlton, climbing up the nearby stepladder to tug and work the knots until they finally came loose. He tried to assess his injuries to the best of his abilities, but it wasn't until his feet gained full purchase on the ground that he realized how badly they'd fucked him up.

Was just thankful that they hadn't broken any bones. Broken bones would have ruined everything.

"Where did they take Shawn?" She asked, trying to support him as he weaved, uncertain of gravity at this moment as well as his ability to do anything to save Shawn. "Carlton?"

"They took him out to sea, honey," the woman taunted from the floor, laughing sharply, making his skin crawl.

"O'Hara, he ventured, cautious, his hands shaking as he stepped away, stumbled gracelessly to where the sealskin had fallen during the arrest. Picked it up and clutched it close, wondering if he'd survive transformation, if he'd be able to find the boat or Shawn in time. "I need- need you to trust me."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, eyes wide.

"C-can't explain. No time. Call an ambulance. Call for backup. I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."

She looked at him, broken and bleeding and clinging to the sealskin as if it were his lifeline. "Trust me," he said again, needing her to say it before he did the craziest thing of his life.

"Of course I trust you," she said, and Carlton thanked his lucky stars for her.

He stumbled towards the door, dragging himself as much as he walked out of the building and onto the pier. Looked out over the ocean, searching for the boat when he saw lights in the distance. He kicked off his socks and shoes, shedding the rest of his clothes as he stumbled towards the edge of the pier, wrapping his skin around him. If this failed, if he was too damaged to make it, he'd be forever remembered as the detective who went mad, stripped down, and died flinging himself into the water. 

Plunged in anyway.

The ocean wrapped him in a warm, loving embrace, and if this was death, he'd never been happier to die.

The water knit his skins together, the magics of both forms brought together for a moment as a whole. The pain remained, and he could feel where the transformation hesitated at his wounds before they were written also into his first skin. It hurt, but he could focus on the pain later after he got Shawn back on dry land, safe and sound.

He took off through the water, practically flying towards the lights from the boat. It'd been a long time since he'd swam, but it came to him as easily as walking, as breathing. He was made for it.

There was a trail of bubbles leading towards the surface, and Carlton took a deep breath before diving after them, hoping and praying to whatever powers that might be that Shawn wasn't dead yet.

Sure enough, through the dark water, he saw him. Shawn's eyes were closed and bubbles escaped from his mouth and nose, drifting upward. He was still moving, one foot free and kicking weakly at his second shoe, trying to wriggle it off, to rid himself of the weight that came from the cinderblock duct-taped to it.

Carlton tried to pull him up, grabbing his shirt and swimming upward. Shawn exclaimed in surprise, but in his weakened state, Carlton couldn't stop him from sinking. Dove, then, teeth attacking Shawn's laces as they both went deeper into the water. Finally, the knot gave way, and the shoe fell off of Shawn's foot. Carlton surged up, grabbing his bound hands with his maw and swimming for the surface as quickly as he could as well as swimming towards the shore.

His body wanted to give up, but he pushed himself to his absolute limit. He'd found him. He'd gotten him. He couldn't drown now. But by the time they broke the surface, Shawn wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, his face pale.

Carlton dragged him up higher until his flippers and body slid in the sand. Kept pulling, though moving across the land was a great deal harder than soaring through the water, especially with Shawn's dead weight pulling him back. Finally flopped, defeated, onto the beach, dropping his hands and wriggling out to get a look at him.

Slapped him once with his flipper, making a low growl of discontent, but Shawn didn't respond. Barked angrily at him until a familiar voice yelled, "Shawn?"

Gus was running down the beach to the two of them, Juliet not far behind him. "He's over here!"

Carlton knew he needed to leave, that the longer he stayed, the greater the risk that someone would notice his own injuries. Had absolutely no intention of getting caught now, but with Shawn clinging to life – if even that – he couldn't risk leaving. Had to make sure he was okay.

Gus dropped in the sand next to Shawn, something steeling over in him before he began performing CPR. Of course he knew. Gus made it his business to know everything, never half-assing, never leaving something like this up to chance. Carlton had once said that he had no idea where Gus fit into their team dynamic, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize for it now, for being the most wrong he'd ever been in his life.

Shawn began to sputter and turned his head, coughing up water before drawing blessed air into his body.

Carlton was so happy he was a seal and no one knew how to read his emotions, the intense relief and joy that flooded through him. With that, he should have left, but before he could, Shawn lifted his head and looked straight at him. "Oh my god," he managed to say, voice raw and damaged before paramedics swarmed the scene.

Carlton began to flop away when he spotted Juliet sitting by herself just a little farther down the beach, watching him expectantly. He made his way over to her, cautious. "My dad used to tell us old Scottish fairytales," she said, softly. "To keep us close to home." She smiled, expression wavering, concern and fear for both his and Shawn's lives written so clearly on her face. "Carlton, you're a selkie."

He nodded.

"Are they gonna come looking for you?"

He hesitated and nodded again.

"Can you change back?"

He paused, considered, and shook his head. Pointed his muzzle up, and Juliet raised her eyes, looking up at the moon. She was obviously confused, so he smoothed the sand with his good flipper and wrote clumsily, 'FULL MOON.' 

"Oh."

He huffed out, a parody of a human laugh. Nodded. His whiskers twitched, and he looked up to see Shawn standing with Gus's help, shooing the paramedics away from him. "I'm fine, I'm alive, I'm not coming to the hospital, go away."

"Mr. Spencer, you almost-"

"I know. Luckily, Gus and a sea lion were here to save my life."

"Shawn, that's not a sea lion."

Shawn waved his hand dramatically and almost fell over if not for Gus's support keeping him upright.

The EMT hesitated before finally getting confirmation and leaving, the others swarming around before the lights faded. The backup was locking down the warehouse and taking the woman in for questioning. Carlton needed to join them, to fulfill his duty. Needed to take Shawn's statement even as though he knew who the perpetrators were. 

Instead, he was left staring up as Shawn and Gus approached. "It's a seal," Gus explained after having been hushed by him before.

"What a good girl," Shawn mused with a kind grin.

Carlton huffed out an angry, undignified squeak. Juliet giggled, covered her mouth.

"Uh," Gus asked, "why is 'full moon' written in the sand?"

'ME,' Carlton wrote. Gus's eyes widened.

"She's possessed by a ghost," Shawn said, and suddenly his eyes widened. "Wait, what about Lassie? What happened to-"

Carlton slapped his flipper on 'ME'. Stared expectantly up at the two of them.

Juliet explained, softly, "Carlton is a selkie. They turn into seals by using a magic skin."

There was a long moment of stunned silence before Shawn fell to his knees, releasing Gus to be on Carlton's level. "Lassie?" His whiskers twitched, and he nodded, trying to project sincerity. "You saved me?"

He nodded again. There was so much raw emotion in Shawn's eyes as he asked, "Gus? Is it illegal to kiss a seal?"

A small, offended noise was followed by, "Why would I know that?"

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Shawn simply threw his arms around him, holding him close. Laughed, sputtered, and coughed. "Sorry," he said, letting go. "I told them, didn't I? Told them I knew you'd save me."

He nodded again, as calm as he could be under the circumstances.

"You gonna change back anytime soon?"

He reached out to tap where he'd written 'FULL MOON'.

Gus's eyebrows furrowed. "The full moon was four days ago."

"'Four days ago', really?"

"Any astronomy enthusiast would've known that, Shawn."

"You'll be like this for a month," Juliet said, voice soft, worried.

Carlton nodded, resigned. He wouldn't have taken it back even if he could.

"What are we gonna tell the Chief?" Juliet asked.

Carlton swiped another piece of sand clean, wrote 'DONT'.

Shawn looked up towards Gus, waiting, but his friend only crossed his arms, "Given that we're watching a seal write in English, I'm not going to mention the lack of an apostrophe."

"We can't have you go missing for a month with no explanation," Juliet said.

Carlton chose to cock his head. Wrote a question mark in the sand.

"We'll come up with something," Shawn said. "You have plenty of sick days and vacation time." Bit his lip and considered, "Will you be all right, all by your lonesome out here?"

Carlton leaned forward, inching to close the distance between them, and he headbutted Shawn. "Hey! Almost died today; be nice."

Carlton backed away, wiped away some of the sand he'd already used, wrote, 'PIER / PSY OF'.

Shawn stared for a moment before he filled in the blanks. "The pier near the Psych office." Carlton nodded with a bit more enthusiasm. Barked. Wrote 'AT DRK.' Shawn smiled, tentatively, looking up between Gus and Juliet, "This is really happening, right? I'm not dead or going nuts or-?"

"No, he really is a seal," Gus said. "But there's no telling what that says about all of us."

"So we'll come visit you at dark," Juliet said. Carlton nodded. Lifted his head, whiskers twitching. "Tomorrow, Carlton?" He nodded again, looking back at the three of them. Having no idea if they'd actually show, if they'd believe when tomorrow came.

It almost physically hurt to pull himself away, to slip into the water and take off, needing to get somewhere safe where he could heal without a hassle, where he could hide from those people with the shark tattoos.

\-----

At dark the next evening, he swam around the pier, searching for familiar faces among those who noticed him, watched. Expected Gus to talk himself out of it, probably Juliet as well, but his little heart thundered when Shawn's face poked over the edge, a wide grin turned to him.

Soon, the others began to leave, but Shawn came down to the water's edge. "Is chocolate dangerous to seals?" he asked as he broke a square off and offered it to him. Carlton snatched it from his hand, letting it melt in his mouth, reveling in the sugar.

Shawn's hand fell to his head, tentatively brushing his fingers, knuckles over the ridge of his brow. Said nothing which, for them, said so much more. Carlton pushed up into his touch, eyes closed for just a moment before he sighed out.

"Whenever you're ready," Shawn said, thumb sliding over the short hair of his skin. "And I'll be here tomorrow, soon as the sun goes down."

Carlton nodded, but he didn't move to leave. Not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Before the end of the week, Juliet's curiosity got the better of her. Shawn brought her with him to their nighttime meeting, walking with her down to the waterline only to see Carlton come shooting out of the water, sliding with grace he hadn't possessed before.

It was amazing what magic healing abilities could do for a person.

Tilted his head when he saw Juliet, wrote '?' in the sand.

"To be fair," she said cautiously, "you could've taught him to do that."

Carlton's chest puffed up in indignity. With a much more practiced ability, he wrote, 'I AM CARLTON LASSITER.' Stared up at her with narrowed eyes. 'ANY ?S.'

She shifted on her feet, obviously trying to reconcile her logic-fueled mind with the evidence he'd given her. 'OHARA.'

"I thought maybe I'd dreamed it," she said, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. "They found your blood at the crime scene, and I-"

Carlton's whiskers twitched, and he lifted his head sharply. It wouldn't do for them to think he'd gotten himself injured or killed or the line of questioning he was going to have to endure when he could take this skin off would be a million times worse.

"Don't worry, Lassie," Shawn said, assurance wholly unhelpful in Carlton's current state of worry. "Worst case scenario, you show up in a month and say you had amnesia. You have a few weeks of desk duty and some evals, and then you can get back to work."

That did little more to ease his fears, but as it was, there wasn't much he could do about it. Nodded reluctantly. It was as good a plan as any.

\-----

The weekend didn't pass by without Gus finally caving in, though he stayed up near the pier, citing rules and regs about being caught with wild animals. Shawn ignored him, had brought some more chocolate for Carlton.

"There is no way that's healthy for him," Gus grumbled.

Carlton defiantly wrote 'MAGIC' in the sand and went back to taking chunks out of Shawn's hand as he offered them.

Neither Juliet nor Gus wanted to touch him, but Shawn couldn't seem to stop. Wondered if it was like this, too, when he was human, but he had just never noticed the extent.

"Shawn!" Gus scolded the third time Shawn's fingers rubbed under Carlton's jaw.

"Gus, don't be those gross barnacles attached to the pillars down here."

Carlton huffed an amused-sort of sound which, in turn, made Shawn laugh, delighted.

\-----

One evening, Shawn was late. Carlton splashed around in the shallows, sliding about and watching, waiting. He hadn't said anything unusual, hadn't indicated that he wouldn't be here. Thought he might've been forgotten, that Shawn had found something more interesting to do.

Typical that it'd only taken him a little over a week to become bored with him. Carlton grunted angrily for the better part of an hour, circling around the end of the pier, waiting impatiently for Shawn to remember or for his own patience to expire.

However, when it was dark and everything was quiet, he saw a dark shape move onto the beach, crouched and sneaking. Carlton sank a little in the water until only his eyes and the top of his head remained above water.

Shawn straightened up in the yellow lights from the lamps on the pier. The first thing that Carlton noticed was the exposed expanses of his skin, the fact that he wore swim trunks, flip-flops, and nothing else. Carlton glided closer, poking his head out of the water.

"Hey, there you are, Lassie," Shawn said, putting his towel down on the sand. "Had to wait until Gus went home, or he would've thrown a fit." Kicked off his flip-flops. "Mind if I come in?" Shawn smiled, waiting for some kind of confirmation.

Carlton nodded and swam around in small circles, waiting for Shawn to wade in.

This offering was unexpected. Carlton never expected Shawn to go above and beyond to keep him company, to pay attention to him. Yes, Shawn brought him chocolate, but it was a small price to pay to have him literally eating out the palm of his hand. Power, he thought, but here Shawn was, walking out to him, hesitating thanks to his last encounter with the ocean but slowly the undertow and his own determination pulled him in.

"You know, I always wanted to ride a dolphin." Carlton snorted out a laugh into the water. "Shut up – I still want to. It'd only be the coolest thing in the world."

Carlton swam close, brushed his tail along Shawn's legs. "But, y'know. Swimming with you might be a pretty close second."

There was no way to convey how full of shit he thought Shawn was, but he wasn't exactly complaining.

Shawn plunged into the water with him, and Carlton delighted in swimming circles around him. Jumped over him once or twice just because he could. "Showoff," Shawn laughed, splashed him when he came up to look at him.

Before he went back ashore, Shawn grabbed him and gently led. Carlton allowed him to pull him into his arms, resting his head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Out of nowhere, he said, "The girl's lucid."

It took him a moment to comprehend, pulling back to look at him with his hair plastered to his head, grin replaced with a determined, if grim, smile. "I read the report. She had to be sedated – she wouldn't stop crying about her skin and asking if anyone has seen it."

He growled, discontentedly. "I'm gonna take in a drawing of the tattoos in tomorrow to see if they're our guys." Carlton nodded sharply, pulling himself away to swim this way and that, effectively pacing in the water. "We'll find them. But... what if something happened? To her skin?"

Carlton couldn't answer him, tell him how hopeless it would be if it had. But the girl would've known if it were destroyed. She still had some connection to it. But there was no telling what state it would be in if or when they recovered it.

"Never thought I'd say this, but I miss having you around."

Carlton was pulled out of his thoughts, turning his eyes to him.

"Man, I think this'd be easier to talk about if I could see how pissed off you are."

Carlton swam closer, nuzzled his head up Shawn's neck. Made a soft noise.

Shawn smiled wide, petted his head, drawing his fingers up the back of his neck and down again. "Okay, so, not pissed off?" Carlton huffed a laugh. "Good." Took a deep breath and plowed in, "Because I miss you. I miss being able to annoy you, and I miss you annoying me, and I think, I think I could have died that night, when I saw everything they'd done to you. I mean, I almost died anyway. But I don't know what I would've done without you."

Carlton didn't know how to show that he returned the sentiment. Supposed he had time to think about it. Eventually helped swim him back to shore, ignoring the flutter in his chest as Shawn grinned for him, "Night, Lassie."

\-----

Shawn kept him updated. The girl recognized the tattoo. She'd insisted on checking him over to make sure he was clean. He told her about Carlton (with his blessing). She had no family on land, but Shawn, Juliet, and Gus had managed to come together to fake a human identity.

Carlton spent his days looking for other selkies, thinking that her family must be nearby.

But no matter how hard he searched, he could never find them. His stomach turned at what that might mean, but he didn't tell Shawn. Patrolled himself, looking for the hunters, but they were lying low.

Couldn't wait to be human to take the fight to them.

\-----

The full moon was only a day away when Shawn waded into the water again. Carlton's energy had never been higher. He let Shawn hold onto him as he swam into deeper water. Left him treading water as he dove. Brushed against Shawn's leg and heard him give a very manly shriek.

Popped his head up and stared with his big, dark eyes.

"You are _evil_." Shawn said with a fake scowl.

_Yeah, but you love me._

The thought barreled into him and took his breath away. It wasn't true. Even if it could be, he had no way of knowing. Juliet and Gus visited every now and then, but the truth was that he had no comparison for Shawn's day-to-day interactions. Without seeing how seamlessly he flirted with everyone, without seeing the way he smiled and touched, it was easy to think of his interest as exclusive.

It was easy to forget.

He swam him back to shore not long after, watched him go. Shawn reminded him, "I'll be here after dark when the pier's quiet with some clothes for you, and then we can take you home and get you cleaned up. Gus and Juliet cleaned your apartment and uh, your one sad little plant."

Wrote, 'JAPANESE PEACE LILY,' in the sand.

"Yeah, okay, well, uh, it's probably not doing too hot. Sorry, Lass, none of us knew you were a potted plant kind of guy." Contemplated for a moment before he grinned big and wide. "I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

He nodded and swam swiftly away. He had a lot of ground to cover before he took this skin off tomorrow.

\-----

He saw Shawn waiting under the pier, a bag at his feet. Both of them eyed the beach suspiciously, but they were a long way off from any other activity.

Took a deep breath, and began to peel his skin off.

Compressing into a smaller form was a hassle, but it wasn't anything nearly as bad as filling out into a larger form. It was almost the equivalent of puberty, all long, gangly, awkward limbs that he had to become used to again. The water pushed him closer to shore with each wave, but then it tried to drag him back in again, to tempt with the promise of home.

Hadn't everything been so much easier? Hadn't he been happier? Why, if he could find a pod of his own kind, he'd never need anything ever again.

It was the sweetest siren song known to him, and, like every time he'd stumbled out of the water before, he had to force himself, step-by-step, not to let the undertow pull him back in.

Shawn was clearly watching with fascination, marking the changes. His body was even more lean and muscled from its time spent in a predator's form, and if Shawn hadn't managed to see him unclothed before, he wasn't missing the chance to mark every feature of him now.

Carlton wasn't bothered – shame of the naked form was often the first thing to be forgotten.

Shawn offered him a towel and the bag, said, "I'll, um. Be up there." Smiled, wavering, "Good to have you back."

Carlton smirked at his retreating back.

Forgetting to verbally respond, that was pretty high on the list, too.

By the time he'd gotten changed – into his own clothes, thank god they'd thought to bring him his own – and walked up to the pier, he still hadn't said a word. His skin was nestled in the bag, tempting. He was hyperaware of its proximity as well as the water's. Promises that could actually be kept.

He walked away anyway.

Shawn grinned when he saw him, breathed, "Much better."

Carlton nodded, said, finally, "You don't know the half of it, Spencer."

Wanted nothing more in that moment than to sleep in his own bed. Except for the traitorous part of him that told him to go back into the surf where he belonged.

\-----

It got worse before it got better. He'd known it would, but that didn't make reality easier to face, didn't make his days seem less gray and empty, his human form too constraining, its movements alien and uncomfortable. He still hadn't called into the station though Juliet had stopped by. Told her he would soon, as soon as he felt like he could be human again.

Had no idea how he was supposed to live with this. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the water rocking him, its natural rhythm so perfect and right that he felt nothing but the deepest sense of despair upon feeling the length of his arms and legs, the wriggling of his fingers and toes.

He'd never been in seal form for that long before, had no way of knowing how intense the yearning would be, how tempting. How he'd clutch his skin just to be close to it, and yet, it wasn't enough.

One day, he sunk so deep that he drank until his vision blurred, until he couldn't feel anything at all, no depression, no despair, no need to cling. Felt nothing more than the urge to float by, his eyes closed as if the phantom movements of a severed life could bring him closer to home.

When there was a knock at his door, it took concentrated effort to work his legs, to stumble over and turn the locks, opening the door to see Shawn, his eyebrows drawn together, a frown of concern on his face. "Spencer," he said, not bothering to open the door further to allow him inside. "Guessing you didn't bring a snack for me this time."

"God, Lassie – Jules said it was bad, but we didn't know-"

"She didn't know," he said, determined to defend her from his own stupidity, his own abject misery.

Shawn nodded and took a moment to think before he asked, "What's going on?"

Carlton hated him. For being human, for not being able to understand what he was going through. Shawn watched him expectantly, and when he didn't answer, his eyes narrowing in an intense glare, Shawn sighed and stepped forward. His hand rested on his chest before he pushed gently back, giving himself access. He shut the door behind him.

"You can't help me," he said, not unkindly but as a simple statement of fact.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, Spencer, I do." Pulled away from him and took a stumbling step back. Hated his limbs, hated the way Shawn stepped forward, grabbing his arm to help steady him. "You're only human."

Shawn frowned. His thumb moved comfortingly over Carlton's arm, and he flinched at the contact. Somewhat reluctantly, he pulled his hand away. "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you here alone."

"Why?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could get himself under control.

Shawn pretended to consider, "Maybe because you're my friend?"

"Am I," he mused under his breath.

There was a flash of anger, of hurt and betrayal momentarily across Shawn's features. His lip curled, sneering, but in an instant, it was gone, replaced by carefully-kept neutrality. "Yeah," he said, frustration underlying his tone, "you are. Now go find a seat, and I'm gonna get you some water." Shooed him off towards the living room.

Water was the wrong word. He tried not to draw the connection, tried not to think of that empty ache inside him that had made the last several days unbearable. But it wasn't anything he could stop or control.

Could only remember the freedom that came with swimming, responsibilities washed away with every wave, the way his body had been streamlined, perfect. It wasn't about running away, Carlton didn't run from his problems, but it was about belonging, about being in the one place where he could be truly happy.

He couldn't breathe, the responsibility he'd placed on himself, the expectations and knowing what he needed to do at war with the overwhelming need to go home.

There was a faint murmur outside of himself, but the words were nothing more than a faint mumble, undefined. It wasn't until Shawn touched him that he reacted, and it wasn't pretty. In an instant, he had Shawn's arm bent behind him, and he was pressing him to the wall, breathing heavily, his fingers curling tightly in Shawn's arm.

"Lassie," Shawn breathed out, and Carlton slammed into awareness of their proximity, of the bruising grip he had holding Shawn in place. Released him and stepped away, feeling too confined, caged. 

"Hey, it's okay."

"No," Carlton said with a nervous swallow, drawing in on himself, "it's not."

Shawn watched him carefully before he approached, cautious, his hand coming up to rest on Carlton's where they crossed over his chest. "All right. It's not okay. But I'm not going anywhere. So why don't we go sit down," he squeezed his arm gently before letting his hand fall away, "and we can talk it out."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Shawn smiled, nothing strained or negative in it. "There's always something to talk about, Lassie."

"Lived a month as a seal," he said, forcing the levity. "No, there isn't."

Shawn watched him knowingly, but instead of arguing, he walked into Carlton's living room, sitting comfortably on his couch. Slowly, Carlton followed, settling into his chair, staring down at his hands before he forced them apart, setting them on the arms of the chair.

"Mind if I ask-?"

Carlton shrugged, "Go ahead."

"So were you bitten by a seal or-?"

Carlton shook his head. "Selkies aren't made. We're born."

"Your very Catholic, very lesbian mom is actually-?"

Chuckled, and shook his head. "No. My father." Shawn blinked, uncomprehending. "If we're born in human form, there's a ceremony that can be performed by our parents. A baptism of sorts – we're bathed in ocean water with a relative's skin, and when we come out, our own skin forms from it. He did it with my older brother and with me, but by the time Lauren was born, my mother knew. My brother and I did it ourselves, not wanting to deprive her of her heritage. My mother threw my father out when she found out, thinking he went behind her back."

Shawn watched him, asked, "Your dad and your brother?"

Carlton shrugged. "Gone. My father took off not long after, and my brother graduated from high school before taking his skin into the water."

Shawn laughed, suddenly. "You said he went off chasing waves," he remembered.

Carlton's lips tugged in a tentative smile. "I thought it was pretty funny."

"It is," Shawn said with a grin. "What a buildup to that joke, though."

Carlton tried to hold his smile and failed, "Good things come to those who wait."

"Not much for waiting," Shawn murmured, an incriminating confession.

Carlton lifted his head, looking at him, and Shawn held his gaze without flinching. His inhibitions were somewhat compromised, allowing him to grumble under his breath, "Tease."

Shawn smiled thinly. Didn't defend himself.

"I miss it," Carlton said to break the ensuing silence. He hated talking about his emotions, but Shawn had to understand. "More than miss it." Looked away, guiltily. "I've never been in that form for that long. This," his fingers twitched unhappily before he gestured to his body, "all of this. I hate it."

"You're thinking about going back."

Carlton flinched. Shawn hadn't sounded accusatory or angry, but it stung all the same, the reminder of his weakness. "You don't understand," he said, already a tired refrain.

"I don't," Shawn agreed. Carlton looked up suddenly to see Shawn standing in front of him. "But I know you. I know you won't abandon your duties – even if you haven't gotten back to them yet – and I know you're stronger than whatever's telling you to go back."

Carlton looked away again.

Shawn pressed on, leaned close and brought a hand up to lead his chin up, Carlton's eyes followed to his. "If it weren't for you, I don't know I'd even still be alive."

"You wouldn't have been there if not for me," Carlton said, somehow entranced by his willingness to be this close to him.

"As if that's the first time you've saved me," Shawn said with a self-deprecating smile. "You're a vital part of the team, Lassie."

Carlton bit the inside of his lip, intending to dig brutally in, but Shawn could feel the tension in his jaw beneath his fingers, eyes warm and kind. "You know, I waited a solid month to get my hands on you, and then you came out of the water like you deserved a slow-motion sequence complete with suggestive saxophone in the background. And if you weren't wasted right now, if I knew for sure you'd remember in the morning, I'd- I'd try to kiss you, swear to God. I want to."

"Then why wait?"

"Been waiting for that a lot longer than a month," Shawn confessed. "And when I do – _if _I do – I want you to want it, too."__

__"I do," he said, helpless not to give himself away._ _

__Shawn grinned, delighted, "Good. Then you have to stay. Because the jury's still out about whether I'm allowed to kiss a seal or not, and I really want to kiss you. A lot. Like a solid week of making out."_ _

__Carlton smiled. But even with Shawn's words and the pretty pictures they painted, he knew it wouldn't be that easy._ _

__"I need you to take the skin."_ _

__Shawn blinked down at him, confused._ _

__"The only way to guarantee I won't cave is to take it away from me," he explained, feeling that he should pull himself away, and yet, he was so unwilling to follow through. "If you take it, if it's in your possession, I'll have to stay."_ _

__"You want me to hide it from you."_ _

__Shook his head gently, corrected, "I _need_ you to hide it from me."_ _

__Shawn nodded, slowly, and agreed, "I can do that."_ _

\-----

__He showed up at the station a month and some change after he'd gone missing, walking with as much purpose as he was capable of, though he didn't have to fake the worrying lack of confidence._ _

__"Carlton," the Chief said as he knocked on the frame of her open office door. "Where've you been?" She sounded worried, concerned._ _

__They'd gone over this several times. He'd taken lying lessons from the biggest bullshitter of all time, and he still wasn't sure how well it'd work._ _

__"It's a long story."_ _

\-----

__His long story landed him on desk duty._ _

__Felt lucky to have even that._ _


	3. Chapter 3

He hadn't been fully reinstated, but that didn't mean he was going to stop pursuing the hunters. Vigilante justice had no place in his line of work, but this fell outside of the law, the true extent of their crimes unable to be recognized by humans.

He knocked on the door to Juliet's home. The girl, after being released from the hospital with nowhere else to go, had moved in as a temporary fix. Juliet cracked open the door, smiling up at him, "Carlton. Rowan's in the living room."

The girl – she was more of a young woman – was curled up on Juliet's loveseat, watching the television intently while she munched away at some sugary-looking cereal with marshmallows for good measure. Surely Shawn's doing as he couldn't see Juliet influencing her in that way.

Loosened his tie and cleared his throat, but Rowan didn't look away from the screen. "Miss?" he finally ventured.

She dragged her eyes away, looking him over with apparent disinterest. "Mister," she mocked quietly.

On the spot, it was harder to confess. "My name is Carlton Lassiter." Rowan lifted her head, eyebrows shooting up. "My colleague said he told you about me."

"He did. Are you really-?" She sat her bowl on an end table and unfolded, long, lean limbs, defined and muscled stretching as she leaned over the arm to watch him. "Where's your skin?"

"I asked my friend to take it." Tried to smile. "I can't do any good to you hiding out in the water."

She nodded, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. "Any idea where mine is?"

"You'd know if it were destroyed," Carlton explained. "If the hunters don't have it, they'll be able to direct us to whoever does."

"And if they don't cooperate?"

Smiled in a way that wasn't at all kind, the smile he reserved for the worst perps, a promise and a threat. "They will."

Rowan's eyes lit up. "I like you."

"Likewise." Carlton came into the room and sat down on Juliet's pastel furniture, smoothing his hands over his slacks as he said, all business, "They took you mid-transformation. There's a very real chance that your skin is damaged."

"No 'real chance', Lassie." Carlton grimaced. It figured that Shawn would imprint that stupid nickname on her. "It is. It hurts."

"When it's back with you, it'll start to heal," he said, hoping to ease her fears and knowing it was a paltry offering of comfort. "If they've chosen to keep it as a trophy or sell it, the chances of it being destroyed are incredibly low."

"But what are the chances of getting it back?"

His grimace deepened. "There's no way of knowing." Rowan leaned back in her seat, her face blank, masking, Carlton supposed, her concern and worry. Added, cautiously, "We'll do everything we can."

She managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

\-----

He was working late, making calls for other detectives currently deep in their own investigations when Shawn dragged a chair in front of his desk and plopped down. Carlton ignored him, continuing down the checklist of questions he'd been given to ask someone's grieving widower, jotting down answers in the notebook as the man sobbed his life story over the phone.

Shawn rolled his eyes at a particularly loud noise, smiling wide, insolent. Distracting, but Carlton didn't mind as much as he should have. Didn't bother to ask him to leave, electing to ignore him until the call was over, and Shawn waited, semi-patiently, watching him with an obvious fondness that left an uncomfortable twist in his own chest.

"Thank you for your time," he said when he'd gotten the information the other detective needed, and he sat his phone in its cradle. "Can I help you?" he asked the moment he heard the click. Dragged his eyes back to Shawn, trying to ignore the heavy thump of his heart as Shawn smiled.

"Don't need help," Shawn said easily.

"That's debatable." Shawn's grin only widened. "What do you want, Spencer?"

"What I want?" he considered, drumming his hands on his thighs. "I thought I'd come see you in your natural habitat."

"Thought you'd have had enough of that."

Rolled his eyes, "Oh, Lassie. Don't you know better than that?"

Carlton turned his eyes down to his notes, opening up a word processor on his computer to type them out so they'd be legible to the detective working the case. "Get to the point."

Shawn's smile finally fell, conceded, voice soft, sensitive to the subject he introduced, "All right. I thought I'd see if you were ready to have it back."

Carlton stopped typing immediately. He wanted to keep his eyes trained on the screen, to keep himself from the pity he was sure would be hiding in Shawn's expression. Almost against his will, they rose to him, but Shawn wasn't being cruel, wasn't reminding him of the delicate position he currently rested in. It was genuine, which was a word he was still having to adjust to when it came to Shawn.

"Why?" was the first word out of his mouth, and he regretted it instantly, for ascribing an ulterior motive, for demanding an explanation. Couldn't help the part of him that wondered if it was too much, knowing that Carlton's ultimate weakness was in his hands.

"Because it's yours." He said it so simply, no embellishments, no joking. As serious as Carlton had ever seen him. That alone made his frantic, suspicious thinking pause. "And if you're ready to have it back, I'll give it to you."

Carlton could still feel the pull, tapered off but still present, waiting for a moment of weakness to drag him back down. And yet, he couldn't continue to place that burden on Shawn longer if he wasn't willing to carry it. What came out was: "If you don't want it any more, I'll take it back."

"Man, that's not what this is about," Shawn said with a heavy, annoyed sigh.

Carlton half-heartedly tapped at his keyboard, asking, "Then what is it?"

Shawn paused, looking around the office to make sure they were alone before he leaned forward, voice low, "I've read the stories." Carlton's hands stopped working instantly. "So long as someone has your skin, they have power over you. They can control you."

He took a calming breath and looked at him. "It's not so black and white," he said, voice low. "Leverage, certainly. But absolute control, no."

Shawn nodded, understanding, "Okay, but the point still stands." Smiled, strained. "I don't want leverage over you, Lassie."

Thought bitterly that he already had plenty. "Why?"

"Because," he said, voice low, promising as he leaned in further, on the edge of his chair. "I don't want you to owe me."

"I already owe you."

"I don't want you to be obligated to say yes," Shawn corrected easily. "Owe me a favor – I actually don't mind that." He grinned. "But when I put my moves on you, when you say yes, it's not gonna be because of any of that." Carlton watched as Shawn slid forward, out of the chair, hands spreading on his desk as he leaned close. "All right?"

Carlton considered, and it would have been easy to agree with whatever Shawn suggested, to play by his rules. He met Shawn's gaze unflinchingly, said, "No." Hurt flitted across his face. Carlton added, voice quiet but demanding, "You pick a restaurant, and we go there tonight."

Comprehension dawned, but Shawn didn't look much more receptive. "What about waiting until we're on even footing and everything's squared away and no one has power over anyone else?"

Smirked just slightly, demanding, "Do you really want to wait?"

"We _should_ ," Shawn said uncertainly.

Carlton met his eyes. Shawn's idea of budding romance was likely exclusive to movies and television. As far as he knew, Shawn's most serious relationship had been his one with Gus, but that was different. "We should do what we want." Calmly said, "I _want_ to. Don't you?"

Shawn's mouth hung slightly open before he nodded, so quick. "Yeah. Hell yeah. Yes, I want." Swallowed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'll text you the place. I need to make sure the right chef is working. It'll be perfect. I promise, it'll be just the best-"

"Spencer," he called him back, amused and traitorously endeared by Shawn being slightly off-balance for him. "Text me. I get off work at five."

He grinned, "You got it. See ya later, Lassie!" He zipped off with a quick wave to Juliet, jogging towards the exit, determined. Carlton smiled a bit too widely, and he concentrated on typing out his notes, trying not to compulsively check his phone or the time.

\-----

He almost expected Shawn to take him out for seafood just for the sake of irony, but the address he gave belonged to a nicer steakhouse that Carlton hadn't had the chance to try yet. Eating out alone wasn't his idea of a good time, and he seldom had anyone who would accompany him.

Shawn was waiting for him already, smiling wide when he arrived before leading him inside.

\-----

He walked with Shawn to the parking lot, detouring to his motorcycle instead of going straight for his own car. Shawn dared to reach out, grabbing his hand, the contact making Carlton's heart jump.

It was the best first date he'd had in a long time. They knew each other too well to let silences drag on, Shawn always quick to bring up a new subject, distract and direct to happier topics when things became too somber or serious.

Next to Shawn's motorcycle, he said, feeling guilty about the cliche line but it was true, "I had a good time." Swallowed, added, softer, "Shawn."

Laughed, grinning, so big and bright as he squeezed his hand. "I did too, Lassie."

Huffed, feigning irritation, "Can't even call me by my first name?"

Shawn's nose crinkled as he frowned. Concentrated and tried, "C-Carl? Carl."

"I'll shoot you." There wasn't any heat behind it, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Not on a first date you won't." Smirked and leaned into him, "I'm a good boy. Gunplay's at least a third date activity." Heat crawled up Carlton's spine, and his fingers gnarled around Shawn's. Shawn chuckled, "Wow, really?"

"Shut up."

Sighed, "All right, Lassie." His smirk widened. "But only because I can think of something way better to do with my mouth."

An obscene thought flitted through his mind, but before he could follow it, Shawn leaned in, caught his lips in a soft kiss. Carlton's eyes closed, concentrating on the kiss, holding onto the moment, cherishing it until they, at last, parted. He could feel the curve of Shawn's lips as they pulled into a smile, and Carlton was helpless not to press against them again, his arms pulling him close, no longer able to willfully deny himself what he'd wanted for so long. Not when Shawn was standing so close and encouraging more, one hand sliding up his chest, fingers dipping into the neckline of his shirt, curling in his chest hair, and brushing over his skin.

That single touch alone was enough to convince him, if any part of him doubted, that this was different, that this went beyond Shawn's need to shamelessly flirt, to push himself into Carlton's personal space and disrespect his boundaries. It was seeking proximity for the sake of closeness, to share something together instead of taking selfishly for himself.

Carlton raked his fingers into Shawn's thick hair, swallowing his soft moan as he gave a gentle tug. He could have stayed like that, could have spent forever learning all the noises Shawn made and what brought them to life, but there was a somewhat subtle cough from nearby, and Carlton caught a family of four staring at them.

He felt a flush spread across his face. Shawn turned a wide, dazed smile to them before looking down at the kids and asking, "Do you believe in Prince Charming?"

The smaller girl nodded slowly.

"Well, this one's mine." Detached from Carlton and grabbed his hand. They both watched, amused, as the parents herded their children away.

"Suck up."

"And suck down," Shawn murmured under his breath. Carlton growled, bringing a hand up to clamp on the nape of his neck, glaring at him. Shawn's smile widened further as he pushed up on his toes, words whispered low in his ear. "Swallow."

"Spencer," he growled, fingers gnarling against him, pressing deep into his flesh. "Behave."

"You love it," he observed, trying to shift his hips to bring them together.

Carlton's hand reached down to grab his hip, still him, hissing, "Not here."

"Your bed or mine?" Nipped and nibbled at his ear.

"Shawn," he reprimanded, finally putting real pressure on his effort to stop him, and, in an instant, he pulled back, eyes glinting in the low light and a mischievous smirk on his lips. "Not today." Shawn began to pout, but Carlton wasn't to be deterred. "I have work tomorrow."

"I'll be done with you before work," he promised.

"Who says I'll be done with you?" 

Shawn's pupils dilated. "Oh."

"And I have the entire weekend off, Chief's orders."

" _Oh._ "

Carlton slowly smiled, predatory. "That's what I thought."

\-----

It began as a soft tickle of a touch, tracing up his spine and down again. It moved to his side, almost tickling his ribs before it moved in a small circle, and Carlton froze, realizing that it wasn't something his mind was making up.

Grabbed his cellphone from his desk and selected Shawn from his contacts, clutching his phone tightly until Shawn picked up. Hissed, "Stop," into the receiver before he'd even said hello.

"Stop?" There wasn't a trace of guilt in his voice. "Stop what?"

More fingers slid into the hair of his sealskin, and he could feel it, massaging deeper than the bare surface touches Shawn had done before. A shudder wracked up his spine, his free hand curling on his desk. "Spencer, I'm trying to work."

"Then work." Raked up against the grain, and Carlton's eyes fluttered closed, spine arching as he breathed, shallow. "Feel good?" he asked, kneading.

"Please stop," he choked out.

The pressure stopped instantly. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but it's-" He took a shuddering breath, calming in increments as he better realized his control, the feeling of powerlessness fading. "Not here." Gritted his teeth, "Next time I tell you to stop, you stop." The rest of the threat went unsaid, and for a moment, he panicked, knowing that his skin was in the hands of someone who might be pissed off at him.

But after a moment of contemplation, Shawn said, "I will. I'm sorry, man."

"I'll come by your place when I get off work."

Cowed, he said, "All right."

\-----

By the time work was over, his anger had significantly simmered down, and he spent the entire way over remembering the nightly meetings, the way he'd always smiled when Carlton came out of the water to greet him and the way he'd treated him. It would have been easy to demand tricks or demean him, but Shawn had treated him like a person worthy of dignity and respect.

It was hard to stay angry at him which was something he'd noticed a long time ago. Something about Shawn made his rage turn into fond irritation which should have been even worse, but somehow, it wasn't. It was comfortable and easy, and Carlton wasn't entirely convinced that Shawn didn't have some kind of magic at his disposal that bent the world to his will.

He knocked at the door to Shawn's place, tension winding tight inside him in anticipation that he might not answer. After a few long moments, it flew open, and Shawn was standing on the other side, beaming. "Lassie! What a nice surprise."

"Not a surprise," he pretended to grump. "I told you I was coming over."

"But you don't look like you're going to kill me – that's the part that's the nice surprise."

"I wouldn't kill you." Shawn's smile somehow widened. "Probably. Don't test me."

He didn't falter. "I never did well on tests – I wouldn't dream of inflicting them on others." Bit his bottom lip and looked away. "About earlier. You were right. I should've stopped playing around when you told me to."

Nodded, sharply, "Damn right, you should have."

Shifted uncomfortably. "Are you still pissed off?"

"No," Carlton said. "Against all odds, I'm not."

Considered before asking, "Do you want your skin back?"

"No." The siren call was less appealing now, and he thought there was a chance that he could have it in his possession and not succumb, sliding into a deep depression until he finally returned to the water. But he had never trusted someone else with his skin, his well-being, his freedom to someone else before, and Shawn stopping earlier at his insistence inspired some deeper need to test the waters.

It probably wasn't a good idea.

"Can I come inside?"

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Kept his gaze trained evenly on his face. "Second date?"

Shawn blinked at him owlishly. "Really? After earlier?"

"It's Friday," he said as if that explained everything, watching as Shawn connected the dots, smile widening as he lunged out, grabbed Carlton's hand, and yanked him into the dark, unlit territory of his apartment.

"Let's watch scary movies and grope each other in the dark."

"We're not teenagers, Spencer," he growled as Shawn closed the door behind him.

"Well, I'd hope not, or we'd have to find a way back through the time vortex and I've seen enough time travel movies to know that it's never an easy jaunt back where we came from." Carlton grimaced. Shawn, as if somehow sensing – not because he was psychic, for fuck's sake; Carlton might be a member of the magical and/or supernatural community but that didn't mean Shawn was or could possibly be – his displeasure, he quickly amended to a less ridiculous proposal. "Or. We can order in and watch one of the all-time classic action movies."

He asked, cautious, "Which 'classics'?"

Rolled his eyes. "Lassie, there are three things you can trust that I have good taste in: movies, food, and friends."

"And yet, somehow, I don't."

Shawn eyed him with a knowing smile before he leaned up, tugging on his tie as he brought their mouths close to each other. "Sit on the couch and get ready to learn."

\-----

Just after they started the second movie (which had been contingent upon Carlton agreeing that Shawn had decent taste in action flicks if nothing else), Shawn stretched his arms out across the back of the couch before settling like that. His fingers brushed the nape of Carlton's neck, rubbing gently when he tilted his head forward and allowed him access.

He ignored the heat in his own cheeks at Shawn's smug grin. Was tempted to elbow him off, but Shawn found a particularly tight knot beneath his skin and skillfully soothed it away. Carlton's eyes closed, breathing in, shallow.

"That the spot?"

It felt good, there was no denying that. Shawn had clever fingers and an incredible attention to detail that Carlton was learning to appreciate. "You should let me at the rest of your back," Shawn said conversationally. "I've got magic fingers."

Carlton had felt them once earlier, his thoughts straying back to the sensations he'd never really felt before. 

His jacket was already draped over the arm of the couch, his tie loose but still knotted. It was as close to unbuttoned as he was willing to go on his own. Shawn kept up his ministrations for a few long minutes. Halfway through the next scene, he leaned close, "I could help you unwind."

"I am unwinding," he said, voice low but far from complaining.

"Your tie is still on," Shawn said, using his other hand to tug gently at it. "So it doesn't count."

He hooked a finger into the loosened knot, pulling it until it slithered off from around his neck, tossed it aside. "And your shirt," Shawn said, smirking.

"If you want to undress me, just do it yourself."

"Thought you'd never ask." Shawn swung his leg and hips, straddling Carlton on the couch as he pushed forward and brought their lips together, fingers deftly teasing open the buttons of his shirt.

"Were you waiting for that?" Carlton asked.

"Is it really that important?" Shawn shut him up with a heavier press of his mouth, tongue invading, exploring, and Carlton was quick to respond, to take advantage of the situation put in front of him.

"Lassie!" Shawn's voice went embarrassingly high-pitched when his cold fingers slid beneath the waist of his jeans. He reared back to grab his hands, holding them between his own, rubbing slightly to warm. Carlton watched, amused. Shawn glared. "Next time, I'll slide ice down your pants, and we'll see who's laughing then."

"It won't be you," he said severely. "I hate being cold."

"Really," Shawn deadpanned. "You think all that fat would be good for something."

Indignant, "It's blubber, and that's only when I'm-"

"Blubber, then," Shawn said, and Carlton could feel the grin pressed against his mouth. "Either way, it jiggles."

"You jiggle," he hissed, freeing a hand to touch the curve of Shawn's belly.

"Hey," Shawn growled indignantly, trying to wriggle away without losing his comfy spot on Carlton's lap. "Play nice. I'm trying to give you a massage."

"Out of the kindness of your heart."

"You _did_ kinda save my life, you know."

"I've done that before."

"And I've saved yours, too."

Knew Shawn didn't mean to draw the association, but he knew he was right. Before that night and even during – if he hadn't shown up, hadn't interrupted the torture they'd intended to continue, he wouldn't have made it. Magical healing could only carry so far. Supposed it was lucky in a way, but even thinking of that night made him feel distant, his heart picking up its pace, and he buried his head in the crook of Shawn's neck.

Murmured, "Yes, you did."

Shawn's fingers ran, tentative and gentle through his hair. Carlton's hands, ever-so slightly, tightened on him, and Shawn leaned into him, sturdy and solid. Not pulling away or running, abandoning as he plunged into the all-too familiar depths that threatened to drag him down and drown him.

Didn't know how long they sat there like that, time crawling by one second at a time until each felt so significant and important that he had to cherish each one. Kept waiting for the shoe to drop, for Shawn to become impatient or aggravated, but it never did.

"Sorry," he finally mumbled.

Shawn hummed a soft acknowledgment and kept him close, handling him so gently as if he might break. A long moment of quiet, broken up only by the low-level chatter of the television in the background, stretched between them before Shawn finally said, "I've been waiting years, you know. To kiss you and hold you and be here for you. I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you woke up in the morning, and I wanted to be the last voice you heard before you fell asleep. I wanted you to want me."

"Losing its allure, is it," he supposed dryly, needing him to leave already or stay forever and he couldn't decide which would be better.

Shawn scoffed but didn't answer. Carlton flinched and hid his expression, not in any position to reestablish boundaries at this exact moment. Even with Shawn's silent confession, he needed him, needed to cling to him like some pathetic teenager caught up in puppy love.

"It's harder," Shawn said, thumb rubbing a circle on the back of his neck. Carlton sneered, but Shawn leaned back and pushed him gently until he could meet his eyes. "I mean, I've seen people do relationships and even the ones that fall apart, I always thought I could do better, but it's really hard, and it's not like we're in very deep yet."

Carlton's expression fell, dread settling in his stomach. Shawn smiled, soft. "I'm not saying I don't want the same things I did, or that I don't think it's all worth it, Lassie, because I do. But I'm gonna be perfectly honest here, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Neither do I." Felt the frown tugging at his lips. "I don't do well at relationships."

"I've never really done one before." Shawn's smile widened into a grin. "We're a mess."

Carlton nodded. "A big one."

"Monumental, even." Leaned forward until his nose nudged Carlton's, forehead resting against his. "We should celebrate."

Slowly, the tension that had been building inside of him began to unwind. "Never repeat this to anyone, but," chuckled, "I like the way you think."

"Do you now," Shawn said brightly, body moving in a sinful roll, pressing his hips against Carlton before he tilted his head and kissed him.

Carlton's response was immediate, opening his mouth to Shawn's seeking tongue, his hands politely staying on the outside of his clothes when he reached down to cup Shawn's ass, pulling him forward, closer. Groped a little because he could, because Shawn pushed back into it, asking for more.

"I owe you," Shawn began in the breath between one kiss and another, finishing several moments later, "a massage."

"Raincheck," Carlton said, voice low and rough, and god, he could keep Shawn like this, pressed against him and eagerly responding to every slide of their tongues, every shift of their bodies. Couldn't remember feeling this much of a rush with anyone else before, not even with Victoria in the first throes of love.

But then, he'd had years for these feelings to take root and grow, flourish into affection and respect, deepen from a physical affection to more instead of pursuing it first. Delicately aged until he was here in this moment when he could appreciate it for everything that it was.

Then, Shawn pulled away. Carlton's eyes snapped open, searching for him immediately, eyes falling to where Shawn slid between his thighs, hands rubbing as he settled, kneeling on the floor. Felt embarrassed at the sight of the bulge in his pants, but Shawn distracted him easily enough, palm sliding up, rotating over it until his hips jerked, seeking.

"Raincheck on the erotic massage," Shawn said, reaching for his fly, gaze tilted up to watch Carlton as he worked his pants open. "But unless you have any objections, and I _am_ listening, Lassie," he grinned lazily as he palmed him, "I'm gonna show you something I am so very, very good at."

His mouth was so dry as he nodded, slowly, said, "Go ahead."

Shawn's hand slid into his pants, into the front of his boxer briefs, fingers traveling lightly over the length of his cock before he pulled away. "Lift," he instructed, tugging at his pants, and Carlton obeyed, letting him pull his pants and underwear around his thighs, feeling pinned as his cock bobbed up, free.

Shawn wrapped his fingers around him, pumping a long stroke down and back up, the dry drag almost uncomfortable enough for him to speak if he weren't sickly fascinated with the way Shawn looked at him, admired the length of him, flushed, the tip wet and messy.

Shawn leaned in, warm breath ghosting over the tip. Carlton's cock throbbed for it before Shawn's lips opened and he took it into his mouth. Warm, wet heat suckled at the head of his dick, and Shawn's tongue licked his precome away. A warm hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and slowly, Shawn slid until his lips met his fingers.

His free hand landed on Carlton's thigh, holding him open, fingers gripping tightly as he stroked him. Shawn's tongue rolled over the head, and Carlton could feel saliva slicking the movements of his hand. It wasn't neat, tidy, but fuck if it didn't feel good, if he didn't want more.

Gave a deep groan as Shawn sucked around him, causing him to laugh, the vibrations traveling from his throat and down the length of his cock to the base and his balls. "Spencer," he growled roughly, hands fisted on the seat next to him, his teeth clenched tightly as he tried to hold on.

Shawn made an infuriating little 'hm?' noise, eyes flicking up slow, taking him in. Carlton lifted a shaky hand, ran his fingers through Shawn's thick hair. Shawn gave a small gasp that Carlton could have easily missed if they weren't currently configured as they were. "You like that," he observed rather than asked, dragging his hand heavier through his hair, fingers running along his scalp.

He moaned around his mouthful, a flush rising in his cheeks at the noise.

Carlton breathed out shakily. Curled his fingers into a tight fist and tugged. Shawn made a desperate sound, back arching, his tongue moving over the slit of Carlton's cock with frantic energy. He led him farther down on his dick, and Shawn's jaw and throat went slack, letting him lead and following his pace, jacking him as he sucked him down.

Shawn Spencer on his knees, smart mouth stretched wide around his cock, begging for him to fuck his mouth and tug his hair was maybe the hottest thing Carlton had ever seen in his life.

His hips rolled up, and Shawn took it, his technique and capability making heat crawl up his spine, wondering how many people Shawn had blown in his life, if he'd ever practiced, trained his gag reflex to let him take. The peak of his climax approached rapidly, and he let his head fall back, eyes closed as he gasped for air.

He tugged Shawn's hair one last time, gentler, then his hand fell away. "Spencer," he managed to breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I'm gonna come."

Shawn squeezed his thigh and patted it, keeping his mouth and his other hand sufficiently busy, speeding until everything was fuck, oh god, please, more, don't stop, don't stop. And then he was coming into Shawn's mouth, body a tense arc, shaking until it was finally over, and he was spent, lax, easy.

Looked down at Shawn as he leaned his head against Carlton's knee, hands struggling with the button on his pants, frantic fingers failing to free himself. His eyes were bright, riveted on Carlton's face, lips pink from where he'd worked them up and down Carlton's cock. He reached out to smooth a hand up Shawn's face, leading him. "Up here."

In an instant, he launched to his feet, straddled his lap, pupils blown wide as he stared at Carlton, pleading with a small push of his hips. Carlton shocked him by leaning forward, kissing him softly, heedless of the taste in his mouth as he worked his fly open and pushed down his pants.

Shawn made a quiet, surprised noise before moaning into the kiss, his hips jerking as Carlton teased his thumb over the slit of his cock, confident and sure in a way that Shawn hadn't been expecting. It twitched in his hand, a bead wetting the pad of his thumb, and he pulled back, allowed Shawn to see him lick the drop off his finger.

"Oh my god," Shawn breathed out. Carlton licked a stripe over his palm and let it fall, pulling Shawn's cock into his fist.

"You like that?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow, a smirk tilting on his lips.

"Thought you'd, I dunno." He whined, "Object, a little, to, to-" Sighed, thrusting as Carlton stroked him. "Dudes."

He chuckled, taking advantage of Shawn's head tipping back to get his mouth on the expanse of his throat. Shawn's head went back farther, an open invitation. Growled in a low register as he worked his hand. "I chase down thieves and murderers for a living. No offense, but your dick," gave it a gentle squeeze to hear Shawn moan, "is pretty damn low on the list of what worries me."

He dragged his tongue over Shawn's skin, tasting sweat as he jacked him. Shawn's hips moved in greedy little bucks, demanding more, his breathing heavier, labored as he gasped, moaned. Carlton moved as fast as he dared, pulling back to watch Shawn's face contort, out of his control, between concentration that wound him tighter and going slack with pleasure, with feeling so overwhelmed and desperate.

Carlton gave a calm, satisfied smile, lazy, post-orgasmic arousal coiling easily through him. Seeing Shawn lose control of his careful composure, giving himself over to pure sensation – it was addicting. He immediately wanted to see it again and again, never stopping. "Shawn," he murmured.

His head snapped up, eyes out of focus until he finally managed to hone in on his face.

"I want you to come for me."

Shawn's breathing shuddered and he threw his head back with a shout, coming over Carlton's fingers, on their stomachs. He didn't care, stroked him through every spasm, catching his lips as he began to come down, using his clean hand to grasp his hip, keep him close, holding onto this moment for as long as he could.


	4. Chapter 4

His phone pinged with a text from Shawn a few hours into work, and he elected to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand. Shawn had a habit of texting him with inane questions which he could recognize and appreciate for the clumsy attempt at getting to know him better. But there was a time and a place for that kind of fraternizing. It wasn't at work.

He hated desk duty. He had hated it when he was a rookie, and he hated it more now. Hated seeing Juliet running around with a temporary partner. Hated knowing there were crimes and perps and his job protecting the city and putting the ruffians who broke the peace in their place. And he was sitting at home base, taking notes, making phone calls, running license plates; things for which his efficiency was useful but as for Carlton himself? It may as well have been white noise.

The despair still caught up with him in quiet moments. Shawn had given him a care package for those dire times, and thinking about the indecent photos on his phone made a flush rise on his cheeks. Shawn was either the best or worst thing that had ever happened to him; he hadn't decided which.

His phone pinged again.

Carlton eyed it cautiously, but his resolve held strong. If he let Shawn make headway now, he'd never learn to respect work as a separate relationship. When it mattered, when it really counted, Shawn had to look at him as an officer of the law, as a detective, as an extension of the city of Santa Barbara.

He supposed he was lucky, in a way. Growing up with Henry Spencer for a father had to have at least taught Shawn the basics.

His desk phone rang. Carlton snatched it up, tucked it between his shoulder and his jaw. "Carlton Lassiter, SBPD."

"Dude, why aren't you checking your phone?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to relieve the tension headache he could already feel forming. "Because I'm at work, Spencer."

"Good," Shawn said, "because this is totally work related."

"Really," he said flatly.

Indignant, "Yes! I found the shark people!"

Carlton's blood ran cold. He rocked forward in his chair, voice low, "Spencer, I want you to listen to me carefully. You are not, under any circumstance, to engage them. They're hunters. They torture and kill people for sport, and they won't hesitate to do the same to you. Get the address, then get the hell out of there."

"All right," Shawn said, a little defensive, but Carlton's fears about him getting in unnecessary trouble were well founded. "I can tell you where we're at. Are you coming?"

Carlton gritted his teeth, not liking that he had them pinpointed and now they'd have a chance to vanish again. But the only thing more suspicious than him taking sick or vacation time would be if he were to get into an altercation. "After work."

There was an uncomfortable pause before Shawn finally conceded, a disgruntled note in his voice, "Okay." Carlton was just beginning to relax when Shawn added, "I'll lay low, but I'm going to keep an eye on them."

"No, you're-"

"We're not gonna lose them again," Shawn said, voice surprisingly firm. "Text me when you're done."

He hung up before Carlton could reply.

\-----

He and Juliet took their lunch out to the bench on the beach, and that was when he felt safe enough to tell her. "Spencer found their hideout."

Juliet looked up from the sandwich in her hands, eyebrows drawn together as she watched his face. He kept it carefully impassive, anger simmering in a low burn, threatening to boil. "We have to tell the Chief. If we can connect them to the woman we caught that night, we can charge them."

"Officially," he said, watching the waves curl and crash against the shore, "I don't remember anything from that night. The tattoos are circumstantial, and she's refused to give up any more information. She's willing to take all of the legal fallout so her friends can keep torturing and killing people like Rowan and me."

"You're going to go after them." It wasn't a question.

"I have to."

"Not alone."

His jaw tightened, his eyes turning a cold glare towards her. But she wasn't a rookie, the new girl in town, able to be nudged by someone with more experience into complacency. She lifted her chin, met his intense stare with one of her own. A stalemate formed a thin layer of ice that cracked under the pressure. "O'Hara," he tried finally, but it only made her frown deepen.

"You're not going in there alone, Carlton. I understand why we can't go to the Chief with this. But I'm still your partner, and I'm going with you whether you like it or not."

"It could end badly," he said as if that would change her mind. It earned him a suitably dirty look.

"All the more reason to take backup with you."

He sighed but relented, turning his eyes out to the water. "What I meant was: there's no way we'll be able to explain this if we're caught."

There were long moments of silence before Juliet said, "We won't get caught."

The assurance did little to ease his worries.

\-----

His phone rang half an hour before the end of his shift. He stared down at Shawn's number, listening to the tinny speakers blaring some kind of pop song that he was certain he'd never put on his phone. It was tempting not to pick up, to keep working, but knowing that Shawn was still watching the house, he had to.

His heart raced, fearing the worst. That he'd hear the voices from that night, telling him that Shawn was in their possession, that he was dead. It kept catching up to him, and, in a way, he was lucky to be on desk duty where he could afford to be distracted when the field offered no such luxuries.

"I just saw Rowan go into the house."

Carlton's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"Rowan, teenager, used to be a seal? Ring any bells?" Shawn's voice was quick, clipped. Worried.

"You're sure it was her?"

"No, come to think of it, it must have been some other teenager with murder in her eyes and a chip on her shoulder."

Carlton hesitated, "Well..."

"It was _her_ , Lassie. You have to trust me."

Carlton didn't dispute it. He did. He had trusted Shawn for a hell of a long time now. "We'll take off early."

"'We'? Dude, don't tell me you're bringing Jules into this."

"Let's see you try to stop her."

A pause before he said, "That's fair."

"Give me the address, and we'll head that way. Do not engage them, Spencer. Promise me."

"I make absolutely no promises, mostly because I know you won't believe them. I'll see you soon." He rattled off the address and hung up.

Carlton swallowed his nerves and pushed himself away from his desk. He stalked over to Juliet's desk, leaning close to whisper, "We need to leave." She turned to look at him, eyes narrowed, eyebrow arched. "Spencer spotted Rowan entering the hideout. We need to go now."

Juliet was on her feet in an instant. "Got it."

They took the last thirty minutes off. Carlton explained that he had a searing headache to Karen, and Juliet said she wanted to make sure he got home safe. It was enough.

\-----

They spotted the blue Echo several blocks from the address they'd been given. Shawn and Gus were sitting inside, having some kind of animated discussion, probably an argument. They pulled up behind them and parked. Shawn looked up and held a finger up to Gus before opening the car door. Gus wasn't far behind him.

"Status report," Carlton said as he got out of the car.

"Good to see you, too," Shawn said with a roll of his eyes. Leaned into him for a moment, earning a sharp look from Carlton that did nothing to cow Shawn's shameless behavior. He nestled against him for just a minute before he jolted away, said, "I have a plan."

"So do I," Carlton said evenly. "You and Guster stay out of trouble. We'll go in, get Rowan and her skin."

"Uh," Shawn blinked at him, "no and no? These are the same guys who trapped you and tortured you – there's no way they're going to give everything over without a fight."

"I anticipated a fight."

"Good," Shawn said. "So do we."

"Shawn, I didn't sign up for a fight."

"Gus," Shawn said, exasperated. "I'm a lover, not a fighter. We anticipated the fight, but we're not gonna incite one if we don't have to."

"Then they won't stop. If it's not Rowan and me, it's people like us."

"I know, Lass." Shawn's voice softened. "I know, and you can't ID the guys because of the story we told the Chief, but Rowan can. She walked in there like she knew exactly what she was doing and who she was dealing with."

Carlton hated being handled with kid gloves, but there was a rare, solemn determination in Shawn's eyes that made him willing to listen. "What's your plan, then?"

"Well," Shawn said, easily segueing into a smile and a plot.

\-----

By the time they got into position, Carlton had fallen into a familiar mindset. It had gotten him through stakeouts, through raids, shootouts, and high-speed pursuits. It was what had gotten him through every slice and stab of that night all those weeks ago. It was a displacing calm that overtook his volatile nature, the violent impulses and the rage that often ran rampant through him.

He took a steadying breath and listened.

In the distance, he could hear Shawn and Gus starting. It was a distraction, an argument that would only get louder, more physical, threatening to draw attention if it went unchecked. He heard the front door open, an unfamiliar voice shouting at them both, and Carlton felt a grim smile tug at his lips when he heard Shawn and Gus both shout, "Shut up!" at the hunter before they went back to bickering.

More voices joined the fray, and Carlton looked over at Juliet. She knelt next to him, pressed against the building, her own gun in her hands, muzzle pointed downwards. He never appreciated her more than in these moments, when she knew to say nothing, when he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would have his back.

Carlton hefted his service weapon and closed his eyes, breathing deeply Some of the voices sounded familiar, but they were out of his current realm of concern. Save the girl. Save Shawn and Gus. Get the hell out. Going outside of the law had been a foolish idea, but he hadn't expected Rowan to hang around for a trial. It was a mistake. Luckily, they'd caught it in time.

"Let's go," he said when it sounded like half the neighborhood was trying to pull Shawn and Gus apart.

The back door opened easily, and Carlton crept slowly through the house, listening. There was a sudden, strangled scream, cut off, and Carlton made his way to it. He froze in the doorway, the smell and sight of copious blood turning his own to ice.

"Rowan," Juliet breathed behind him.

The girl looked up at them. There were tears on her arms from where she'd wrenched herself free, blood flowing in rivulets down to the floor. Her face was smeared, with it, mouth glistening, something sickening peeking out, seemingly ripped from the throat of the man laying on the ground. A shark tattoo was visible on his wrist, and that was the only consolation Carlton could take. His neck was ripped open. It turned even his stomach.

"Come on. We need to get out of here."

"My skin," she said, too casual for someone covered in gore. "It's here."

She stood up, and the ropes she'd torn through dropped, bloody, to the ground. Carlton nodded, "Let's find it and go."

"How did you-?" Juliet asked, eyes trying to move away from the gruesome scene and yet being drawn inexplicably back.

"I spend more time with my skin," she explained with a small smile. "I have more magic than Lassie does."

There was a gunshot. Carlton's head shot up. "O'Hara, take her and get her skin."

She hesitated, but Carlton didn't wait around to see if she'd listen. He edged towards the front door, looking out at the scene. Shawn and Gus were standing still, halfway clutching each other, their fight interrupted as they stared at the smoking barrel of a gun.

"Now, my friends, I'm sure we can be reasonable."

He knew that voice instantly. It provoked a visceral reaction, the kind of thing that could drive someone to the same violence that Rowan had used. He bared his teeth without thinking about it, sneering, snarling.

"Yeah," Shawn said, his face pale. "Now that I think about it, this isn't worth, um, getting shot over."

There was a moment of silent consideration, then an unkind amusement, "And here I thought I'd killed you."

"Me? Can't have been me. I've never died before."

"Clearly not." He raised his gun. "I don't repeat my mistakes, boy."

"Neither do I," Carlton growled, bringing his own gun up, safety clicked off, aimed squarely at the boss's head.

Slowly, the sharks began to turn, looking him over. The boss was last, the tattoo stretched over his throat, menacing and horrible as he lifted his chin, met Carlton's gaze. "It's should be a crime to let an animal carry a weapon."

"Actually," Gus said, his voice small, "we're all animals."

"We're humans," the boss said. "Civilized, capable of thought." Smirked, "Motive. This one is no more capable of that than a dog. He's proving it now. Attacking mindlessly without any kind of backup plan."

Carlton gritted his teeth. "Drop your weapon."

"Or what? Officer?" There was a taunting lilt to his voice. "You'll prove me right? Maybe you can kill me, but you won't get out of here alive. We outnumber you, and we're all armed. Physically. Mentally." Faking kindness, he said, "You should spare us all the trouble and surrender. Kill yourself for us."

Carlton was so focused on him that he missed Shawn moving until there was a loud yell. He tackled the boss to the ground, and Carlton moved, quickly, grabbing Shawn by his scruff and shoving him away. The boss scrambled for his gun, and Carlton fired a bullet straight into his hand.

"Who's next?" He snarled, turning to the rest of them. "I'll put as many bullets into as many of you as it takes, so who's next in line?"

None of them reached for a weapon. After a few moments, they scattered, running in different directions. Carlton knew they'd be back in a matter of days or else they'd be congregating elsewhere in the city. Their time would come.

He turned his attention to Shawn. "Spencer."

"I'm all right," he said, stumbling to his feet. Turned to look at him, smiling though it dropped quickly away, his mouth open, eyes wide. He shouted something, but Carlton didn't hear it.

Carlton began to walk towards him when everything slid sideways. His breath caught in his throat, and, slowly, pain filtered into his awareness, driving into him with a brutal twist. He brought his elbow up, feeling a crack as he smashed it into the boss's face. Every step, every breath was a new kind of pain.

The world tilted around him, and suddenly, Shawn's arms were there, holding him tightly up, carefully avoiding the knife that was embedded deep in his back. "Lass, Lassie, C-Carlton, listen to me, listen, okay, you're gonna be okay, look at me."

Carlton dragged his eyes up to Shawn, the edges of his vision darting black. His legs stopped working, and he stumbled. He hit his knees. Shawn slid with him, never relenting in his support. "Stay with me, okay? You have to stay with me. Tell me how to help. Is it the skin? Will that-?"

"H-hosp-" Shawn nodded quickly, yelled something over his shoulder to Gus, but by the time he looked back to Carlton, he felt his consciousness fading. It was happening too quickly, and he couldn't hang on. "S-ssorry," he whispered as his eyes closed.

\-----

He floated in nothingness, feeling the shift and tide of the water around him, cold, so cold and yet so comfortable. He could stay, listening to the rush of the water and the slow thumping of something in the deep. He could stay forever.


	5. Chapter 5

He jolted forward, gasping for air, eyes wide and wild, hands clutching uselessly at something slick, unable to get a solid grasp on anything. A hand shot out of nowhere and clasped one of his own. He was helpless not to cling to it, pull it closer, eyes trying to discern something from the blurs that clouded his vision.

Before he knew it, he was pulled into a tight embrace, and he clawed uselessly at Shawn until he finally realized who it was. "Shawn?" His voice was raw, straining even at in a soft tone.

"I thought you'd up and died on me," he explained, burying his head in the crook of his neck. Carlton looked around and realized he had no idea where he was. It was a bathroom, sure enough, and he was sprawled out in a tub full of cold water, still in his clothes. The problem was, among other things, that he had no idea whose bathroom this was.

He blinked several times, trying to make all of this make sense, but it just didn't. Nothing added up.

"Water," a voice said from behind the three faces he knew all-too well. He lifted his head, looking at Rowan who had cleaned up her face and hands which clutched at her skin, obvious tears running through it. "The water called to the magic in you – it activated your healing."

Juliet looked as if she were close to crying, which was starting to set Gus off. It was too much. All attempts to move his body beyond clinging back to Shawn seemed to be fruitless. "It took a lot of your energy," Rowan explained, and Carlton sincerely lamented his lack of connection to his roots.

"Help me out," he said, more a demand than a request.

Shawn and Gus each took one of his hands and with some maneuvering, they pulled him out of the tub. Carlton stumbled weakly until Shawn pulled his arm around him, insinuating himself as close as possible.

"How are you feeling?" Shawn asked, eyes searching his face.

"Like death," he said without irony. Looked at the four of them, "What happened?"

"You were stabbed," Juliet began.

He chuckled roughly, hissing when it sent pain lancing through his body, "I know that. I mean, after."

"I cuffed him and took him to the car, and Rowan had Shawn and Gus help bring you in here. You haven't been out very long."

"Good," he tried not to lean on Shawn, but most of his muscles didn't seem intent upon listening to him. "I should go to the hospital," he said, uncertain.

"No," Rowan said quickly. "They'll want to know why it's healed up so quickly. It's bad enough you're planning to let that guy try to talk his way out of getting punished. What if he mentions magic?"

"He won't. He's too proud to do it, when he knows everyone else will laugh at him." Carlton groaned, but he stood up straight, weaving on his own two feet. "Don't mention the stabbing," he said to Juliet. "Deny it happened when he brings it up. He threatened these two with a gun, and Rowan can ID him as the ringleader of the people who hurt her and later attacked her."

"You're sure?" she asked, concern painting her expression.

"I'm not interested in personal retribution," he said, content to lie about this one detail if it meant the guy would be locked behind bars for a long time. "Just get him locked away."

"That'll work?" Rowan asked, looking at him, distrusting, cautious.

"If we remove his 'proof' that magic exists, which he won't expect us to do, then if he tries to bring it out later, it'll make his position look even weaker." He hated this feeling, the need to lean on someone else, unsteady, uncertain on his own.

"So what?" Gus asked, "We'll lie to the police?"

"Believe me," Carlton said, turning a glare to Gus. "We'll be in a lot more trouble than you if someone finds out." 

"So don't let anyone find out," Rowan said with all the confidence of someone who wouldn't have to face counts of perjury if they were caught.

"That's the plan," Shawn said, and Carlton found himself looking at him. He had been surprisingly quiet. Worryingly. Shawn turned a smile up to him.

Carlton looked away to the others. "If we're done?"

Juliet nodded sharply, and she and Gus turned to leave. But Rowan asked, "My skin?"

Carlton's eyes fell to the tattered remains of the skin clutched tightly in her hands. There were obvious rips, but it seemed to be intact. "We can sew it up," he offered. "It may hurt when you transform the first time, but you'll both heal."

"Sew?" She looked between them.

"I can do it." All of them looked at Gus, who shifted nervously. "I mean, I can get it done."

Shawn's face lit up, "That's right. Gus's mom loves patching things up."

"Will it hold?"

Carlton admitted gruffly, "I don't know. I think it would, but my experience is limited. But if I can shift like I was during our first run-in with these guys, a well-sewn skin ought to work. But we need you to stick around and give your statement at the very least." He tried to take a step forward, authoritative and in control and instead, he almost fell, stopped only by Shawn who groaned at the strain and helped pull him back up.

"Right," Juliet said, hands out to attempt to steady him before Shawn had managed. "Shawn, take Carlton home." Carlton opened his mouth to protest and quickly snapped it shut when she pointed at him. That was all it took, a single, accusatory warning finger, and he shut his mouth. "You'll both come in tomorrow to give your statement. Gus, too. Rowan, I need you to come with me so we can take pictures of your injuries before they start to fade. We can make a kidnapping case since they tied you up along with everything else."

"My skin?"

Gus walked over to her. "I didn't really see what you did to the guy in there because I began resting my eyes shortly after Shawn opened the door. But I know I wouldn't want even half of that. You're really scary even for a teenager."

She smiled, "Thank you."

"The point is: you can trust me. I'll take good care of it, and I'll have it back to you as soon as I can."

"And if you don't," she said, baring her blood-stained teeth.

Gus's face went pale. "We won't worry about that. I'm absolutely sure I can do this."

"Good," Rowan said, cheerily. "Thank you."

Juliet's hand landed on his arm, surprising him. "Call me. Or text and let me know how you're doing."

Carlton nodded grimly. Shawn assured her, "He will. Or I will." She raised her eyebrows at him, and Carlton shot him a sharp look, but Shawn ignored him. Explained, "I'm not going to leave him alone after that."

"I could help," she offered. "After I take care of this."

"Nah," Shawn grinned easily. "I got him, Jules."

"I'll be fine," he insisted. It was Shawn's turn to give him an exceptionally angry glare. Admitted, "But it'd probably be safer. Just in case."

"Good," Shawn said. "Perfect. So we're gonna go. Come on, Lassie. Gus, leave Rowan alone." He didn't look away from Carlton, and yet he seemed to know that Gus and Rowan were currently in the middle of an awkward standoff. Gus held out his hand, and she handed over the sealskin with the gentility of someone giving up the most invaluable thing they owned.

The attempted murderer was sitting, cuffed, in the back of the Crown Vic. He sneered when he saw Carlton walking upright, eyes narrowed. Carlton lifted his chin and glared back at him, pointedly showing that he wasn't afraid.

"I know it's probably tactless to complain, but you're gonna get the seat all wet."

"He can sit in my lap," Shawn offered with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.

"No, I won't," Carlton said. "It's dangerous and against the law." He leaned against the Echo and pointed towards the backseat. "You go there."

Shawn frowned before sighing, "The things I do for you."

"I don't want to hear it."

He leaned close, grinning slowly, "How about I show you, then?"

"A-hem," Gus cleared his throat and the Echo beeped as its doors unlocked.

"You're no fun." He opened the door and with much complaining, scrambled into the back seat. Carlton slowly, very slowly, fearing that at any moment his muscles would fail to hold him upright, sat in the passenger seat and finally relaxed.

Gus handed him the seal skin, which Carlton folded neatly in his lap, resisting the urge to run his fingers through the fine hairs in case Rowan would feel it. He examined the edge of one jagged tear, and it matched easily in his mind's eye with one of the marks they'd seen on her body after she'd been found.

He wouldn't rest until each and every one of them answered for the lives they'd taken or the lives they'd attempted to take. All the tortures they'd enacted onto their fellow beings regardless of magical or supernatural alignment.

The car jolted into a pothole, and Carlton's nostrils flared, but he didn't give any other sign of pain. He would persevere as he always had, as he always would.

\-----

By the time they made it to Carlton's, he was ready to fall asleep, into a hibernation, whatever it took to get any of his energy back. Shawn helped him into the elevator and then to his apartment door. Carlton expected that to be it, but Shawn produced his keys seemingly out of nowhere and opened the door.

"I've got it from here," Carlton said under his breath.

"Too bad," Shawn said coolly. "I'm coming in." Kept his other arm firm around Carlton's waist, eyes forward as he led him into the apartment. He released him with caution, eyes flicking over him as if he might suddenly die at a moment's notice. Finally, Shawn gave in and closed the door, locked it behind them.

"Won't be good for company," Carlton said, trying to deter him from boring himself here. "I'm about to change into something dry and then sleep. At least until morning, possibly until next spring."

"Do what you need to do. Don't worry about me."

Carlton knew something was off, but he didn't know how to approach the subject. "Shawn," was the best he could do. Shawn's head whipped around, eyes searching, wide, afraid, before he launched himself over the distance between them, practically tackling Carlton against the wall so he could cling to him.

It hurt on top of everything else, but pain was tolerable. He put his arms around him and held him close for long moments, listening to Shawn mumble. "I watched you die today, Lassie. I saw him- and I knew he'd hit an organ, you coughed up blood and the light went out of your eyes. It was all happening so fast, and I don't know what I would've done if Rowan hadn't told us to put you in the bathtub."

"I'm all right, now," he assured him, not feeling as confident in that as he wished.

"How can you be so sure?" Shawn looked up at him.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I feel weaker than I ever have, but I don't feel like I'm dying."

"Well that's good," Shawn said, shifting his position to put his ear closer to Carlton's heart. They stood for a few long moments, letting Shawn listen and be soothed by the steady beat. "Can I see it? Where he stabbed you?"

"Probably be good to get a pair of eyes on it anyway," Carlton said. "And I really want to change out of these clothes."

Shawn helped him to the bedroom before flitting off to get a towel from the bathroom, leaving Carlton to undress in peace. He shrugged out of his clothes without care for where they landed or in what condition. There were blood stains on them, anyway. It'd be best to throw it out and save everyone a lot of hassle. He wasn't overly attached to his clothes to begin with.

"Are you decent?" Shawn asked from the doorway, averting his eyes for a moment though they flicked occasionally inside.

"I'm not wearing any clothes," he said, unsure of how to answer the question.

"Oh," Shawn said, falsely cheery. "Then you're perfect."

Carlton held still while Shawn dried him off, and then he held his breath when he paused, gasping softly. His fingers touched gently, and it was only then that Carlton became aware of the ugly knots of scar tissue that had already formed over the wound. Carlton waited, patiently, for Shawn to complete his examination, but he wasn't moving. Finally, he turned to see Shawn staring straight ahead, eyes darting in minute movements the way they often did when presented with a crime scene or puzzle.

Carlton reached up to cup Shawn's chin, pulling him up and out of his thoughts. "He hit your-"

Carlton silenced him with the heavy press of his mouth. Shawn made a weak noise before he kissed him back, hands gripping him tightly. "It doesn't matter," Carlton murmured against his mouth. "All that matters is this." Lifted one of Shawn's hands to place it over his heart. He knew Shawn couldn't feel the beat, but he seemed to understand, remaining silent though his hands tightened and he clinged.

Carlton indulged him until he felt like he might fall asleep while still standing. "I should rest," he said, hating to admit the weakness but knowing Shawn wouldn't tease him about it now.

"I'll stay with you," Shawn said easily.

"You don't have to."

"Well, I'm going to." Pointed towards the bed, "Get in."

Carlton obeyed with a slight smile.

\-----

As expected, the head of the gang refused to give up the identity or whereabouts of his co-conspirators. Carlton had the pleasure of interrogating him himself, smirking calmly as realization slowly dawned on the man's face that he no longer held any of the cards.

"You're a seal in a man's body," the guy hissed an hour into their little chat.

"Is that your official response?" Carlton asked, raising his eyes to look at him. "Because I have no problem locking you up in a nuthouse instead of a federal prison. And believe me," his smile widened, "the rest of your buddies will know when the time comes. I'm sure they'll appreciate their fearless leader taking the easier road."

He set his jaw, glaring, but he didn't speak.

"Now, if you could tell us some of their names, I'm sure we could get you a more lenient sentence."

"The sooner I can come after you."

Carlton made a note on the pad in front of him. "Can't wait to bring that up with the prosecution."

He sneered, "Cowardly bitch."

Carlton ignored him. "Is that a 'no' to handing over your friends?"

"You'll never stop us," he growled, the muscles in his neck flexing, the tattoo moving like a snarl. "We'll always come back, and we'll never stop hunting people like you down."

Carlton flipped the notepad closed. "And every time, I will put as many of you behind bars as possible." He stood. "Enjoy prison."

The guy lunged forward, the table creaking as the handcuffs tethered to the table pulled taut. He bared his teeth, growling. Carlton leaned close over the table just out of reach. Let him snarl in his face before he smirked and pulled away, walking towards and out the door.

\-----

The full moon rose midday, and by the time sunset arrived, the five of them arrived at the beach. "You'll be back before the moon sets, right?" Shawn asked as they clambered down onto the sand. He held Carlton's sealskin in his hands, clutching it tightly to his chest as if that might deter Carlton from going. "You promise?"

"Unless something happens," Carlton assured him. He was in a pair of swim trunks, gazing out at the water before turning his attention back to Shawn. "I promise I'll come back."

"All right," Shawn said, hesitating still. Carlton reached out and placed his hands over Shawn's where they held his skin. He could see the pink edge of a scar running under Shawn's thumb, a reminder of everything that had happened. "You'd better." He leaned up and pecked a kiss onto Carlton's lips before pushing the skin into his hands.

Next to them, Rowan looked forlornly at her skin, black stitches covering the gaping wounds made by the hunters. "We did everything we could."

"I appreciate it, Gus," she said with a sad smile. "I'll miss you all," Rowan said, eyes wet.

"Remember to come back before the third full moon from now," Juliet said. "So you can testify in their trial."

"Will you find the rest of them?"

"Absolutely," Carlton said instantly, full of confidence and assurance. "All the ones who haven't fled town yet."

Rowan hesitated, side-stepping closer to the water until the waves lapped at her ankles. "You don't have to come."

"I'd rather make sure you're safely on your way. You know for sure where you're going?"

She nodded sharply, eyes bright now that she was on familiar terrain. "We migrate every year. If my family, if our pod is still alive, they'll be waiting for me along the route."

"Good," Carlton said. Turned to look at Shawn again, surprised to see him so openly apprehensive, worrying. Holding his skin in one hand, he reached out to him, let him slide his hand against his, fingers naturally lacing together.

Rowan took the chance to hug Juliet tightly, to bare her teeth threateningly at Gus before jumping to hug him, too. Carlton smiled in spite of himself.

With great reluctance, he let go of Shawn's hand so he, too, could hug Rowan. "If you ever get the urge to eat some churros or something, come look us up."

She laughed, "I will." Broke apart from him to smile anxiously up at Carlton. "Ready?"

He nodded.

They walked into the water together.

Carlton swam back to shore moments later, his trunks and her swimsuit in his muzzle which he dropped to the side. He paused on the beach and allowed Shawn to approach, fall to his knees next to him. "I love you," Shawn said matter-of-factly. "So you better come back, or I'll steal my dad's boat and come after you."

Carlton huffed out a small laugh and leaned in, nuzzling up the line of his jaw. Butted gently at him until his arms loosened, and he let go. Carlton edged back into the water and swam after Rowan who was already heading south, the stitches already coming loose in the healing tears.

\-----

This time, when he walked out of the water, the allure was that of a dream, a fantasy, a pleasant escape from the day-to-day grind but nothing to replace the life he already had. Shawn was nodding off on the beach, clutching Carlton's clothes and a towel tightly as if they, too, might suddenly slip away.

Shawn blinked blearily up at him as he removed the towel, flicking his eyes up and down his body to make sure he was really there. Carlton handed him the sealskin to prove a point, feeling a shiver run down his body as Shawn buried his fingers in it and held it close. Tangible proof that he was back on land.

"Rowan okay?"

"She's headed south."

"What if she doesn't come back?" Shawn yawned so loudly that his jaw popped. Carlton slid on the clothes Shawn brought and began walking to the car. He scrambled to keep up, weaving, drunk on exhaustion and worry.

"He threatened to come after me when he gets free again. At the very least, that ought to convince a jury that he's a bad person, and we still have Rowan's statements, too. We'll get by."

"What if he really comes after you?" Shawn's eyes widened, one hand lashing out to grab his arm and pull him close.

"You don't have to worry about me, Spencer."

"Don't have to," Shawn said, leaning his head on Carlton's shoulder. "But I do anyway. Just like you worry about me."

Carlton scoffed quietly but didn't dare deny it. They made it to the car in relative silence, Shawn swaying sleepily on his feet. He murmured, "You know I love you, right, Lassie?"

He froze, but Shawn didn't seem to mind, squeezing his arm. "I do," Shawn continued after a moment of silence. "Almost as much as I love Gus."

Anyone else, and he would have been offended, but he understood the magnitude and weight of Shawn's sentiment by that comparison, understood instantly how serious he was. "I'm not good at talking about..." He sighed, "Feelings."

"I know," Shawn said, muffling a yawn. "You don't have to say it back. I'll just lock myself in my room and blast Hank Williams loud enough to shake the house."

"Stay out of my CDs," Carlton said before the rest of him caught up. "Your room?"

"Our room." He shrugged. "Whatever."

"So you're moving in with me."

"Where have you been? I eat at least twice a day at your place, that means I have temporary citizenship in Lassaland."

Carlton snorted, lifting his chin to hide the smile that threatened to twitch onto his lips. "How much of this talking out of your ass is because it's 3 AM?"

"Maybe 15%."

"That's not a lot," he mused. "What about the other 85%?"

"Don't make me do math this early in the morning. Or ever," Shawn said. "Ever would be nice."

They paused near the car, and Carlton reached over to cup Shawn's face. Shawn took the opportunity to steal a lazy kiss, smiling into it. "I know, I know," he said finally, teasing, one hand sneaking out to grope Carlton's ass. "You love me too."

"I do," he confessed which made Shawn laugh delightedly.

"Good. Then take me home to our bed."

Carlton felt dizzy with the prospect, and he couldn't fathom saying no.

\-----

His eyes fluttered open to a sunlit room, a clock that read 12:06, and a deep feeling of contentment that he hadn't enjoyed in a long, long time. He blinked and sat up slowly at the realization that Shawn's limbs weren't entwined with his, that his breath wasn't warm on the nape of his neck. He wasn't even in the bed. He frowned, eyebrows drawn together as he pushed the blankets off and got to his feet.

Usually, he didn't worry when Shawn wasn't there. Sometimes, Gus needed him early in the morning. Sometimes, Shawn couldn't rest and instead of tossing and turning restlessly, he'd leave to go find some kind of distraction until he could finally turn off and sleep.

After his insistence that Carlton return home last night, it seemed silly to worry. But he knew Shawn struggled with his emotions and serious commitment, and while the confession might have been true, his ability to handle what came after might not be as sturdy.

He needn't have been concerned. Shawn was curled up on Carlton's couch. His hands were pulled to his chest, and clutched tightly between them was the sealskin, as if Shawn were clinging to it.

He understood it instantly, remembered how he had been the last time he went into the sea.

Carlton debated about waking him up but instead went to the kitchen to make coffee. Shawn could rest. So long as Carlton knew where he was, everything else was fine.

Halfway through the cup, his back went straight, attention riveted on a touch as it dragged in a small line along one of the scars he'd become familiar with in the last several months. His hands shook as he put the mug on the counter and walked back into the living room to see Shawn looking down at the sealskin, running a finger along the pink break.

"Thought they'd heal all the way," Shawn said, speech surprisingly direct, making Carlton wonder if he'd actually fallen asleep at all. "But you still have scars."

"Scars are still part of healing."

"Hm," Shawn hummed noncommittally, still staring at it as his hands moved, gentle but so very present. Goosebumps prickled along his skin, but he didn't complain. Sat on the opposite end of the couch, nudging Shawn's feet until he lifted them for Carlton to sit and placed them back in his lap. "You can feel that," he said rather than asked, thumb moving in a firm circle.

"Shawn," he began, cut off by a thick swallow.

"What's it like?" Shawn asked, peering up at him, taking him in with long sweeps of his eyes. "Talk to me."

Carlton tried to describe the feeling of Shawn touching him the way no one else had. Besides the hunters who had been cruel and used it to harm, no one else had held it for as long as Carlton could remember. It wasn't a trinket, and his true nature hadn't been something he'd felt free to discuss with anyone besides his family. Suddenly, three people knew, and it seemed manageable.

Shawn watched him, eyes dark as he shifted his feet, hitting his target with the accuracy born of practice. Carlton felt the ball of his foot and his toes slide against his dick. His hand caught Shawn's foot and kept it from teasing him. "It's intense," he said finally.

"Yeah?" Shawn rolled and shuffled until he lay on his back. Wiggled his toes until Carlton acquiesced and began massaging his feet. Shawn grinned lazily and used his hands to grip the sealskin, firm but kind as he raked his fingers down through.

Carlton shuddered, feeling Shawn's hands as if they roamed over his own body, going somehow deeper than his skin. "Spencer," he growled, far from complaining, but Shawn's touch gentled, stroked along a scar.

"Mm?" He hummed, eyes glittering as his thumb pressed down, smoothed in small circles. "You want me to stop?" His smirk softened, eyebrows raised expectantly. Carlton looked away, feeling his cheeks warm as Shawn nudged him. "Laaassie," he said, sing-song, nudging him with his feet.

Carlton turned a baleful eye to him and began lifting his feet up. "Hey!" Shawn's eyes went wide as he wriggled, trying to get free. Carlton lifted him up higher, his entire lower half off the couch when Shawn's eyes went flinty, mouth pressed into a tight, thin line and his fingers dove into the skin, clutching it firmly, the tips digging into Carlton's back like the deepest massage known to man.

He dropped like a rock back into his seat, hands clamping around Shawn's ankles as his breathing shuddered. He swallowed thickly as Shawn sat up, watching him, cautious, making sure that he wasn't hurt before his expression turned mischievous. "Lay down for me." When Carlton resisted, Shawn sighed, trailing a teasing finger against the grain of the hair, letting him feel each one as his finger brushed it back. "Unless you have objections?"

"Mm," he grumbled.

"What was that?" Shawn leaned close, teasingly smirking.

"Maybe," he ventured, mumbling as if that would keep Shawn from poking at him now that he'd gotten the answer he'd pried for. "We should go to the bedroom."

Shawn grinned, grabbing the collar of Carlton's pajama top to pull him close and kiss him, soft, lazy, heavy. Carlton brought a hand up to cup Shawn's jaw, gently touching. "Bed sounds perfect."

Languid but hungry kisses punctuated the slow movement to their shared bed where Shawn led him down to the mattress, swinging his leg over to straddle Carlton's hips. The sealskin landed on his stomach. Shawn's hands followed, fingers bunching, kneading, seeming to touch all over him at once.

A moan startled out of him, and Shawn immediately repeated the motion and rolled his hips over Carlton's own, enticing him to make noise. Carlton fought just as fair, raking his hands into Shawn's hair, moving his head to drop his mouth to his prickly jaw. Shawn's head went back as he mouthed lower, at the column of his throat. His hips jerked again, less controlled, and Carlton smirked before he got to work sucking a mark onto his skin.

After a few long moments, Shawn pushed him down again, hands smoothing his shoulders. His eyes were dark, mouth tilted in a wide smile as his hips twisted in another sinful circle. He ground his ass against Carlton's dick, arching luridly with a soft groan.

Shawn always seemed to enjoy putting on a show. Carlton smoothed his hands up Shawn's thighs, teasingly brushing close to the bulge in his boxers. Shawn's dick twitched in its confines, and he rocked his hips forward.

Carlton's fingers stroked up the underside of his cock, watching as precome beaded, wetted the front of Shawn's boxers. "So wet already," he mused with a smirk.

"Hey," he said in half-hearted protest, hands returning to the skin in front of him, kneading it like a cat as he rutted against Carlton's fingers. "If you want me to ride you, you'll play nice."

Carlton's back arched off the bed as Shawn's fingers curled and pressed so deeply, his own breath shuddering as his hands fell. "Up a little," he managed to murmur, and Shawn obliged, moved his fingers up higher until Carlton's eyes fluttered with the effort of remaining open.

"I told you I have magic fingers," Shawn reminded him, smug.

"You still owe me a massage."

"Could cash that in now," he teased.

"Could." Carlton's eyes opened, transfixed on his face, intense and bright as he reached out to cup Shawn's jaw. "But I'm not the one who needs something right now."

Shawn winced at his weakness being called into question, looking away even as he leaned into Carlton's hand. "Spencer," he said, gentle but stern, drawing Shawn's eyes back to him, his hands stilled, resting on Carlton's chest. "Let me give you what you need."

"Why?" Shawn picked up his hands, crossing his arms as he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, demanded an answer with all the carefully-constructed mask of maturity that too-closely resembled his father though Carlton would never dare tell him so.

"Because I understand," he said, aware of the difficulties of maintaining a serious conversation with Shawn ever much less when they were both hard. "Because I'm afraid of losing myself to it again. I'm worried I won't come home."

"But you did," Shawn said as if trying to convince himself that it was the only part that mattered.

"I did last time, too." He rubbed down Shawn's thighs, less alluring than simply touching for comfort. "I let you take care of me then."

Shawn's head dipped into a nod, and he scrambled over Carlton, looking for the lube and condoms usually tucked away next to the gun in the bedside table. His knee landed on Carlton's stomach, heedless, in his excitement, for where his limbs ended up hitting.

"Spencer," he growled, grabbing his leg and shoving it gently to the other side of him.

"Hey!" Shawn teetered uncertainly, and Carlton rolled his eyes, grabbing the waistband of Shawn's boxers to drag him back before he could fall. He turned to look back at Carlton, smirking at him as he gave a short wiggle of his ass.

Carlton's arm went around Shawn's midsection, hauling him over his shoulder, twisting so he could push him into the bed, kiss that insufferable look off his face. Shawn gave a loud yelp, wriggling as Carlton pinned him down, grinned against his mouth.

Huffed indignantly though he smiled himself, hands raking into Carlton's bedhead hair, purposefully messing it up worse. Carlton kissed him harder, moving until he could blanket Shawn's body with his own, hips moving in a slow grind over Shawn's until he opened his mouth, gasping and moaning, unable to hold back.

Carlton chuckled though it was also cut short. Shawn arched beneath him, pressing the seal skin tightly between them, putting intense pressure on both sides of him. He rolled off, trying to catch his breath as he stared up at the ceiling, blank, thinking of nothing.

Shawn gently picked up the skin where it fell between them. Carlton eyed him, cautious, but Shawn set the skin on the nearby bedside table and grabbed the lube and condoms he'd been looking for earlier. His boxers slid down his legs, and Shawn kicked them off, grinning as they arced through the air and crumpled against the wall before falling down.

He turned his smile to Carlton and leaned down, capturing his mouth in a soft kiss. Carlton leaned up into it, bringing a hand up to cup Shawn's head, fingers threading in his hair. "Wanna take care of you again," Shawn murmured, lips fluttering over his own. "Then I wanna fall asleep with you."

"I just woke up," Carlton said. Shawn frowned at him, glaring, intense until Carlton rolled his eyes and sighed, "My sleep schedule's already a mess."

"Knew you'd come around," Shawn said, instantly melting into a grin. He dropped the things in his hands and set to unbuttoning Carlton's pajama top, his mouth dropping to his jaw, his throat, planting open-mouthed kisses as he revealed more and more skin.

"Take that off," he murmured, watching as Carlton shifted to shrug out of the shirt, letting it fall to the wayside. Shawn's hands immediately went for the waistband of his pants, pulling them and his underwear off in one smooth movement.

Instead of straddling him again, Shawn slid to the foot of the bed, his eyes dark, glinting with mischief as he settled between Carlton's legs. He raised his eyebrows, silently prompting, and Carlton cocked his hips up.

Shawn's smile spread slow, and he slid forward, spreading Carlton's legs without hesitation. He did his best to relax. They'd done this once already, but once wasn't enough to make it feel easy, like he had nothing to worry about. Shawn didn't seem to mind the hesitation, warming the lube on his fingers as he watched him with keen eyes.

Carlton felt himself warm in response to that gaze, his dick twitching from where it lay, thick and hard against his body. Eager for what was to come. Shawn's fingers probed gently at his hole, pressing, rubbing until Carlton thought he couldn't get any more impatient. Then, he pressed forward, one finger sliding into him, just the tip, in and out, acclimating him slowly. "Spencer," he snipped, wriggling for more.

"You haven't done this much," Shawn said by way of an explanation, his attention resolutely focused on Carlton's ass.

"I swear to god, I don't need anal training wheels."

Shawn's gaze snapped up to him then back down again before his lips pressed into a thin line, the corners twitching. He laughed, suddenly, unable to keep it at bay for long, smiling in spite of himself. "What would that even look like?"

"Shawn," he growled, knocking him with one of his legs.

Shawn kept laughing to himself, muffled, though he slid his finger in deeper, stroking, rubbing, encouraging him to relax. Carlton only felt more tense. Shawn smiled up at him, nostrils flaring as he held his laughter in.

"Quit laughing at me," he tried to say, but it came out a little higher pitched as Shawn's finger crooked up, stroked his prostate. "Stop it," he demanded when Shawn fell into another fit of laughs.

"No," Shawn said, smiling so wide, rewarding him for his patience by stroking along his prostate again, maddeningly perfect. "God, Lassie," he breathed, affectionate as another finger nudged into his body. "You're amazing."

It took him a moment to adjust to the addition moving inside of him, his eyelids feeling heavy as he tried to get lost in the feeling. "Because you can laugh at me?"

"Because you make me laugh," Shawn corrected, stretching him, eyes falling again to where his fingers thrust into Carlton's body. "You're opening up so pretty for me. Could do this to you for hours." He still had a soft smile, but his voice was low, husky, "Until you can't keep your hips from thrusting down for it, until you think you have to come or you'll go nuts."

"Shawn," he said, but this time there was no heat behind it.

"Mm?" He lifted his eyes to Carlton's face. With a twist of his wrist, he thrust against his prostate again, watching as Carlton took a deep breath, body arching slightly off the bed.

"Again," he demanded after a thick swallow.

Shawn grinned and obliged, stroking him from the inside until Carlton was gasping for it, shuddering. "God, Lass," he breathed, reverent as he worked a third finger into him, stretching him quicker, obviously impatient himself. "You think you're ready?" he asked after a few minutes, his eyes turning to Carlton's face.

He nodded, managed to speak in spite of his dry mouth, "Yeah. Come on, give it to me."

Shawn nodded, removing his fingers and reaching for the condom packet quickly ripping open the foil and rolling the condom down his cock. It was red at the tip, so hard for him, and Carlton wasn't sure where the sense of pride came from, but he was proud. And more than a bit smug at the eagerness in Shawn's hasty, shaking hands.

Shawn's hands rested on his thighs, and he looked up at Carlton again. "You sure?"

He couldn't find it in him to be annoyed at the hesitation, nodding with a serious expression. "Fuck me, Spencer."

Shawn smiled, nudging his hips forward, hands dropping to help press him against Carlton's ass, unimpeded. He felt the pressure against his hole, felt it clench and flutter for it, urging him for more. Shawn pressed, and after a few moments of resistance, Carlton's body opened up for him, allowed him to push inside.

He'd had prostate exams, sure, and he'd had that one adventurous girlfriend who had insisted on sticking her finger up his ass when she blew him. He'd even allowed Shawn to do this before, wondering what was so damn appealing, why Shawn had spent days practically begging for it.

He shuddered as Shawn bottomed out, thick cock splitting him open, the stretch and burn as good as the feeling of being full. "Christ," he swore at the ceiling, arching, his hips flexing at the strain.

"Feel good?" Shawn asked needlessly, his hands smoothing up Carlton's thighs.

"Move," he said, gruff.

Shawn smirked at him, eyes glinting, pupils blown. "Wouldn't kill you to ask nicely."

"Spencer."

"Or at least ask," he mused, rocking his hips enough to taunt without giving in. Carlton's breathing hitched, and he did his best to glare up at him, but Shawn continued to tease, gently rubbing inside him. Carlton squeezed around him spitefully, watching as Shawn gasped, back arching. His hips jerked into him, and Carlton's head fell back, a groan working through his throat.

"God," Shawn said with another small buck, watching as the muscles in Carlton's body shifted and tensed, the way his thighs quivered for it. "You feel so good."

"You, too," he confessed softly, hips moving restlessly until Shawn gripped them, led him into his next push. Carlton's lashes fluttered with the effort of remaining open, of seeing Shawn's handsome face as that smile fell away, replaced with something much more honest and open.

"C'mere," Carlton demanded, hands roving up to grab Shawn's head, pulling him down, close, and Shawn followed easily, capturing his lips, arching into him. Carlton's fingers curled in his thick hair, holding him close as he canted his hips, encouraged Shawn's rhythm without taking over.

Shawn needed this, the security of Carlton's presence, the control of their movements together. He needed to feel needed, however much he might run from the responsibility, however much it might frighten him. Carlton'd had months to learn the more intimate details of his particular quirks, and they had yet to seem like something more than he could handle.

It was a slow, comfortable build of pleasure, every thrust of Shawn's dick sending sparks through his own body. His own cock twitched, smearing precome on his own skin. Shawn's fingers were light, teasing when they touched him, slid wetly through the slit.

Carlton bucked with something like a growl in his throat. Pushed his hips up and bossily demanded. Shawn pressed his grin against his lips. "How's it feel?"

"Like I'm gonna take care of myself if you don't hurry up."

"Paaatience," Shawn said, drawing the word out long as his hips ground in, made Carlton jerk with how good it felt. He began moving again, slowly, magnificently gentle and soothing even as he built Carlton up. Shawn had always had the patience to tease. The reveal that he had follow-through in him had been a long time coming.

"Wanna feel you like this forever," Shawn confessed, breathing it into his skin, groaning when it felt so good. Pumped his hips into him, and Carlton's hands grabbed his shoulders, urged him harder, faster.

His own words came as bitten-off groans, "Fuck, Spencer."

Shawn laughed breathlessly against his neck, mouth sucking a defiant mark onto his pale skin as his hips went flush against Carlton's ass, thrusting in quick strokes, each one going straight to his dick until it was practically wet for Shawn.

"Lassie," he murmured, dropping a hand between them to pull Carlton's cock into his fist, using the precome and sweat to jack him hard and fast until he bucked off the bed, coming over Shawn's hand, onto his own stomach.

Shawn stroked him through it, hands gentling until it finally fell away, smearing come on Carlton's hip as he gripped him and drove into him again and again until he, too, crashed over the peak.

He could feel the weight of Shawn's insomnia and exhaustion immediately, the way his body went lax and heavy on top of him. Carlton squeezed around him gently, listening to Shawn as he moaned softly in his ear. His hands trailed down Shawn's smooth back, holding him close until he was almost afraid that Shawn would fall asleep like this, comfortable, sated, and seated in Carlton's ass.

"Hey," he said as gently as his gruff voice could manage.

"Mm," Shawn answered.

"Don't fall asleep on top of me."

"But Lass," he whined, but his heart wasn't in it. Slowly, he sat up, eyes hooded and dark as he looked down at him. Carlton flushed at Shawn's intense observation, but Shawn didn't tease, slowly pulling out and taking the condom off. "Hang on." He pushed himself away from the bed and padded to the bathroom to throw it away. Took a moment to mess with his hair before he returned, collapsing into the bed next to him. He blinked, slow and lazy.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Carlton said as he cleaned up his mess with a tissue from the bedside table.

"I know," Shawn said, fussing when Carlton's arms reached out to pull him close. "Can't be held responsible for stuff I say when I'm trying to get into your pants."

"You absolutely can." Carlton cupped his cheek and kissed him softly, feeling the reflexive quickening of his own heart, old anxiety lurking in wait to remind him that now that Shawn had gotten what he wanted, he might not want more.

Shawn sighed, overly dramatic, before he turned over and pushed himself back until Carlton's arm went around him again, pulling him close. Within a few moments, his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep.

When Carlton closed his eyes, he could feel the ebb and flow of the water and the warmth of Shawn's body pressed against his own. He allowed himself to drift, trusting Shawn to keep him anchored and safe from being swept out to sea.


End file.
